Living Next Door to Him
by katierosefun
Summary: [Modern day Whouflee AU] Clara Oswald is trying to write a novel when a loud, cheerful, young John Smith moves in next door. At first, Clara's annoyed – John was never quiet and his outbursts often distracted her from writing. However, she slowly warms up to him and the two embark on a journey of friendship, and, eventually, love.
1. Chapter 1

**Helloooo, everyone! Katierosefun aka Caroline here! This is my ****_first ever Doctor Who multi-chapter story! _****Can you believe it? XD **

**This idea sort of popped into my head two days ago when I was struggling with a story - seriously. Writing blocks are the ****_worst_****. (Actually, there are worse things than a writing block...but for a writer, obviously, writing blocks are pretty bad...because that's when your imaginary friends stop talking to you. O.o) **

**Sorry, off-topic. XD Some of you guys might know me from previous Clara x Eleven stories, or you guys might be totally new to my style of writing and etc. I'm just going to say it now - if you don't like Clara x Eleven, hightail out of here, because though the story will start off with just friendship, it ****_will _****evolve into romance and etc. (I promise that it won't be the sappy, soap-opera kind of romance, though. At least, I hope not. O.O) **

**With that said, please enjoy! **

* * *

_"__In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike any other – you can tell them any and everything and they won't judge you. This person is your best friend, your soul mate…don't ever let them go." _

_Chapter One. _

Clara Oswald bit down on her lip as she stared blankly at her laptop screen. Her brain was racing with _so many ideas _and she couldn't get _any of them on paper. _

She sighed and placed her hands underneath her chin. Really, how hard is it to write something? Just one sentence could start off a story – it didn't take _that _much strength.

Clara spun around in her desk-chair and sighed again. It had been the same procedure every hour of every day – she'd sit down at her desk, open up her laptop, try to type a few words, then delete them all with a few quick, hasty movements.

_I want to be a writer, _Clara thought to herself, standing up. _And I can't even write a single paragraph. Brilliant._

So far, Clara's dream of becoming a writer wasn't as successful as she had hoped – for now, she was just an editor for other writers. She was allowed to stay in her apartment room, only having to go outside if she needed to talk to the head editor or the writers of the books.

Pens and pencils and sticky notes were all cluttered around her desk – pages and pages of manuscripts and emails were posted on the wall. Clara's ever-so-useful phone was also tucked next to the laptop's keyboard, just in case the head editor or one of the writers would call.

Being an editor wasn't _that _bad, to be honest – she was always busy, for one thing, and most of the stories that she had read were actually rather good. The job had a decent pay, too.

She walked over to the window of her apartment and flung it open. She stuck her head out and inhaled a good amount of fresh, warm air. Summer was just coming around here in the states, signaling the first, completed year of Clara Oswald's stay away from her home in England.

Despite her building frustration from not being able to write anything, Clara allowed herself to smile. Summer had always been her favorite season – the warmth, the sun, the release from the stressful, tiring months of winter was always what Clara wanted.

Besides, summers in England were always dreary – they were always hot and wet and Clara always thought of them to be unpleasant. But here, in the suburbs of New York, the summer seemed to be just perfect. Hot, yes, but without the humidity or constant warning of rain.

The small, apartment complex that Clara lived in was just perfect, as well. It reminded her a bit of her own apartment room back home – it had the same, clean walls, the same, shiny, wooden floors, the same large windows, the same…well, just about everything, except perhaps there was a strange, sense of adventure in this particular apartment complex. However, Clara had added her own bits of individuality to the apartment room that she didn't add back in England. Besides her messy desk, several potted plants were sitting on the windowsills and photographs of her friends and family decorated the walls, along with several pictures of far-off places that she hoped to visit one day.

Her bed was in another room of the apartment, though Clara realized that she didn't sleep in her own bed these days. Most of the time, because of her editing job; she would find herself sleeping on her desk.

A small kitchenette was also in the apartment, along with a bathroom. Clara had added air fresheners to keep the room sweet-smelling and comfortable, and, of course, just to make the room feel extra-perky, she had even added some nice, flowery curtains to go with the windows.

Everything about the apartment just _screamed "_Clara" – she had been so excited to travel so far away from home. Not that she hated her home – no, she adored her friends and her father that she had left back in England, but there were just _so many places to see_ and New York just happened to be one of them.

Clara stuck her head back inside and turned around to look at her laptop, which was still humming and whirring with activity.

"Alright, you," she said out loud to herself, sitting down at her desk-chair. "_Write." _

Clara placed her hands over the keyboard and waited expectantly for a word to come to her – a sentence, a thought…anything, really.

When nothing came, Clara groaned in frustration and introduced her forehead to her desk. "Come _on!_" She yelled. "You had all those ideas just a second ago!"

She looked back up at her laptop screen, the thick, black, short line still blinking patiently on the blank, white canvas that mimicked real paper.

"Alright," Clara muttered under her breath, re-placing her hands on the keyboard. She glared at the blinking line and managed to type one sentence –

_It was quiet. _

As soon as Clara added the period to the sentence, a loud, booming, "_Helloooo, _New York!" sounded from outside her window. Clara blinked and quickly stood up from her desk. She walked over to her window and stuck her head outside to see a tall, dark haired young man looking up at the apartment complex with a wide, beaming smile. He wore a bowtie around his neck and a pair of suspenders over a light, red shirt and dark trousers. To be truthful, he looked rather odd.

_Oh – someone new is moving in, _Clara thought, looking at a car parked nearby the man. She watched as the newcomer turned around to the car and unloaded several boxes from the trunk.

Several boxes tumbled out of the man's hands and Clara couldn't help but to feel a bit sorry. However, before she could say anything, the man looked up at Clara. She froze on the spot – she didn't know whether to duck out of sight or wave at him.

She didn't need to do any of those things. The man gave her a cheerful, happy smile and waved as though he was an old friend.

"Hello!" He shouted. "Do you mind helping me move these boxes? I'm new here!"

Clara blinked and shrugged. "Sure," she replied simply and ducked her head back inside her apartment room. She walked over to her closet and grabbed a jacket. Throwing it on, she walked out of the door and headed down the stairs to meet the newcomer.

She came to a short stop in front of him and he grinned.

"Hello," he said again, sticking out a hand. "I'm John Smith." Judging by his accent, Clara assumed that he, like her, was from England.

Clara took the hand with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I'm Clara Oswald," she replied. "Nice to meet you."

The dark-haired man – John – beamed at Clara as though she had given him the best compliment in the world. "Nice to meet you, too," he said enthusiastically and bent down, picking up a large, cardboard box. He gestured with his head at another box sitting in front of the trunk of the car.

"Follow me!" He said cheerfully, heading inside the building.

Clara bent down and grabbed the box. She held it up to her knees and walked after John. The box bounced up and down at her legs and she was relieved to put it down when the two reached the elevator.

"What floor?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Three," John replied, his cheerful smile still plastered over his face.

Clara wondered if it hurt to smile that long. Shaking her head of the thoughts, she managed a small smile. "Really? I live on that floor, too," she said and punched a small button with the number _three_ printed over the glazed, plastic-covered layering.

"Oh, brilliant!" John said happily, picking up the box again. "What room do you live in?"

"308," Clara replied, picking up her own box as the elevator doors slid open. "You?"

"309." John said, his smile stretching wider. "Lovely – we'll be neighbors, yeah?"

"I suppose so." Clara nodded, walking out of the doors. She waited patiently for John to walk out and once he did, the two set off down the halls.

John came to a slow stop in front of room 309 and reached inside his pocket, fumbling for some keys. He dragged it out and pushed the keys into the small hole. John swung open the door and turned to Clara. "Thank you for your help," he said cheerfully.

"No problem." Clara replied. "Er…just give a holler if you need anything else, yeah?"

John nodded. "Of course." He said, and, giving a small salute to Clara, walked into the apartment room.

Clara opened the door to her own apartment and looked at room 309 with raised eyebrows. She could already hear John settling in – the sounds of boxes being shoved around were hard to miss.

She wondered if she should ask him if he needed more help, but remembering that she still had a paragraph to complete, quickly walked into her room without a second thought.

xXx

Clara woke up to a sharp, rapping sound at her door. She yawned and opened her eyes blearily. She glanced at her alarm clock to see that it was only seven in the morning – she still had about thirty minutes left to sleep before she'd have to get another editing job done.

"Who's at the door?" She mumbled to herself sleepily, sliding out of her bed. Clara managed to brush down her hair before opening the door so she would look at least a _bit _presentable.

"Hello?" Clara murmured, swinging open the door.

"Clara Oswald! Hello! Remember me? From yesterday?" A familiar, cheerful voice exploded from in front of her. Clara slowly looked up to see John Smith waiting for her, bowtie and all.

Clara blinked. "Er…yes..?" She chose to reply.

"Wonderful! Well, get dressed – yes, now, if you please, we've got such a big day ahead of us and –"

"What _are _you talking about?" Clara interrupted, confused. "Are we going somewhere? I'm sorry, but I'm just busy today and –"

"Busy? Busy with what?" John asked with a frown.

Clara blinked again, only this time, in surprise over how quickly John reacted. "Well…er…I'm an editor, you see, and I need to get some chapters done today so if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to –"

"Oh, no matter!" John said suddenly, already perking up. "If you're an editor, you've got a laptop, yes?" Before Clara could say anything else, the man looked over Clara's shoulder. He grinned and flashed a thumbs-up. "Great, you've got one! You can work on-the-go, yeah?"

Clara frowned and leaned against the doorframe. "Hang on!" She protested. "We've only _just _met and now you're taking me to…where, exactly?"

"Café! It's only ten minutes away from here – you'll love it! It's got pastries and jams and…_custard!_" John beamed.

Clara took a deep breath and counted to ten under her breath. "Right – listen, that sounds great, but I think you've had too much sugar." She said firmly. "I really can't be bothered today – I'll see you later, yeah?" With that said, she quickly closed the door to John's face and turned back around, exhaling with a puff.

"Oi! Clara! Clara Oswald!" She heard John yelling at the door. "Come on! It'll only take a few minutes!"

_Well…that escalated quickly, _Clara thought to herself as she plopped down on her desk chair. _Really…I've only just met him! _

She heard John sigh and he went on, "Fine! You're busy, I understand! I'll be back tomorrow, yeah?"

Clara frowned to herself as she heard John walk away. The sound of his apartment door closing followed shortly after. She puffed out another, incredulous breath and shook her head. She had a strange feeling that the next few days would be much too exciting for her.

* * *

**A/N: Because we would all love to live next door to the Doctor. Really...even if he might be really loud. **

**Anyways, please review, give constructive criticism (if you have any) and please don't flame! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, everyone! Thank you for the support! I was so happy to see that at least ****_some _****people were going to read this story! :) I actually completed this chapter yesterday - now that I have more time on my hands, (seeing that it's exam weeks and all,) I can write more and get back to the groove where I update my stories frequently. **

**Anyways, don't expect ****_that _****many alerts from me about this story - I'm still studying for exams. In fact, I'm just taking a very, very quick five-minutes break to post this chapter and another story that I wrote last night. (At eleven o'clock pm, I might add.) **

**After school's finished, however, I'll be writing more often. Thank you so much for sticking with this story! :) **

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_"__Important encounters are planned by the soul long before the bodies see each other." _

_Chapter Two. _

Clara's brain felt like mush when she looked up from the first two hours of editing. The red ink from her pen swam in front of her eyes and she sat back in her desk-chair, exhausted. She had actually never seen so many horrendous mistakes in her entire life – hopefully, the book that this writer was about to publish will be a bit more successful with her corrections.

Needing some fresh air, Clara opened up her apartment window and stuck her head outside. She breathed in the air and sighed, letting her mind wander from reality. It was beautiful outside – the leaves on the trees were a vibrant, rich, green color and the smell of flowers wafted up to Clara's window.

"I don't see what's wrong with working outside." Clara finally said to herself and turned back to her desk, where her laptop still hummed with energy. She quickly shut it down and stared at it with a triumphant smile. "I'll work with _you _later," she promised, and, grabbing a binder full of notes and papers, she threw on a cardigan and walked out the door.

Clara quickly tucked her trusty red pen behind her ear and stuck her pencil in her pocket. She pulled out her phone from her jacket pocket and tapped a quick reminder to herself that she would need some more pens and pencils soon – an editor can only have so many materials to work with.

Completing her note, Clara placed her phone back in her pocket and walked down the stairs. Within a few seconds, she was standing outside of the apartment building with a wide, happy smile on her face. She made her way to the local park and plopped herself down on the bench. Clara looked up at the bright, blue sky and closed her eyes, allowing the soft, gentle breeze to ripple through her hair.

Perfect.

_This would be a perfect scene to write about…_Clara thought wistfully to herself as she opened up her binder. She should've brought her laptop with her, after all.

No matter – she could write on her laptop later. For now, she just needed to get back to work. Clara went through her papers, biting down on her bottom lip in concentration. Where was the manuscript? She had been working on it _all night. _

"Funny – I suppose you _can _say that this is an original work of fiction, but I think the storyline is too much like _Harry Potter_." A familiar voice said. Clara turned around sharply to see John – _sigh _– standing a few feet away from her, holding (oh, look at that,) a thin packet of paper with red-inked words scribbled all over it.

In _Clara's _handwriting.

"That's mine!" Clara said, standing up. She extended a hand to take the papers away from him but John held them above his head, staring up at the letters.

"Oi!" Clara yelled, frustrated. It wasn't really fair – John was _much _taller than she was. So, she did the natural thing – she jumped up to try and get the papers.

Sadly, Clara's attempt to get her papers back failed miserably.

If John had noticed Clara, he didn't show it. "Hm…really, I suppose the writer _is _rather good – definitely funnier than JK Rowling, but I think her writing is more…complex, don't you think?" He murmured to no one in particular. "Besides, I always thought that Hogwarts was a place that every single child would want to go instead of this…organization or camp or whatever it's called."

Clara sighed and jumped up again. This time, she managed to snag one of the papers out of her new neighbor's grip. "Thank _you_," she said indignantly. "But I didn't really need the commentary."

"Why's that?" John asked, and plopped himself down on the bench. He crossed his legs and looked up at Clara. "You said that you were an editor – come on, you can make this story better, can't you?"

Clara rolled her eyes and plucked the rest of the papers from John's hands. "I can't 'make the story better'," she replied, using her fingers to mimic John's choice of words. "I just _correct _things – choose different word orders; add a few tips here and there, et cetera. It's not the editor's job to change the storyline – that's the _writer's _job."

"That's it? That's the only thing an editor does?" John asked incredulously. He shook his head. "Must be boring – no wonder why you're so irritated!"

Clara blinked, confused, and then glared. "I am _not _irritated – I'm just…I'm busy!" She gathered the rest of her belongings and tucked her binder underneath her arm. "And will you _stop _following me around? When I said that you could come to me, I meant that you could come to me for _help_, not for…a day out!"

"Why can't it be both?" John yelled as Clara hurried down the street. She heard him standing up and running after her. Clara bit back a moan – really, couldn't John take a hint?

_Just don't answer, Clara, _she thought to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. _Just don't answer – keep walking, keep walking, keep walking – that's a good girl. Keep walking, keep walking, keep – _

"Are you ignoring me _again? Blimey – _do you _know _how rude that is?" John shouted. "Come on – I'm friendly! I'm not going to _bite _you or anything! Well, actually, I _did _bite someone once, but that was only because she was being _very _stubborn and we needed to _move _and –" John paused and Clara heard him making an embarrassed hissing sound.

"Oh, dear, I'm rambling again, aren't I?" John asked aloud.

Clara didn't answer. She stared determinedly at the streets ahead of her and quickened her pace. Eventually, Clara broke into a jog – it was uncomfortable, carrying her binder underneath her arm and all, but within seconds, John's voice had disappeared from behind her.

Clara rounded a corner and let out a sigh of relief. She leaned towards a shop window and examined herself in the glass. It didn't take her too long to notice that John's reflection indicated that he was _still behind her. _

"Will you _stop doing that?" _Clara asked indignantly, turning around. "I thought you stopped following me!"

John gave a halfhearted shrug and a hopeful smile. "I figured that if I kept quiet, you would stop running." He replied cheerfully.

Clara brought her binder to her hands and glared at the dark-haired man. "See, John, there's this boundary between being 'a friendly neighbor' and being 'a creepy stalker'. Can you guess which one you are right now?" She asked in an over-exaggerated, sweet voice.

John frowned in thought. He paused and then replied, "Friendly neighbor?"

Clara groaned. "No, John, you're dangerously close to _a_ _creepy stalker _right now. So, _if _you don't mind, I'll just leave. Goodbye!"

With that, she turned briskly on her heel and walked back towards the apartment building, where she could find at least a _bit _of solitude.

It wasn't that Clara didn't enjoy a good talk every now and then – really, she was actually a rather social person. In fact, _she _was usually the one to drag her friends to go on shopping sprees or go out for a coffee after a lecture back during her university years.

However, Clara was also an extremely bossy, over-controlling kind of person – of course, she would never admit it out loud, but as she grew up, she slowly realized how…_demanding _she could be. It wasn't _her _fault, really – she had been that kind of person ever since she was able to talk and walk.

Clara blinked – was this _really _a time to be thinking about her flaws right now? She had stories to edit!

"That's enough for today, Clara," she murmured to herself and hurried inside the apartment building.

xXx

Clara tapped her fingers listlessly on her keyboard with one hand and twirled her red pen in the other. She was in what she called 'the work-zone', in which she would be _completely _emerged in her work. Clara rather enjoyed her work-zone – there wasn't much noise in her apartment room except for perhaps the distant humming of her laptop and the music playing quietly from her phone.

She stared down at the manuscript on her desk and leaned forward, scratching out several mistakes and replacing them with scribbly notes.

Clara was suddenly startled by a loud, buzzing sound from her laptop. She looked up and grinned, for in large, bold letters, the words _Martha Jones requesting a video call _was flashing on the screen.

Without a second thought, Clara clicked _answer _and in a second, her friend's pretty, happy face filled the screen.

"Hullo, Martha!" Clara greeted with a large, cheerful smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Clara." Martha replied with an identical, large grin. "What's new?"

Clara shrugged, trying to act as casual as she possibly could. "Nothing much," she fibbed.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Clara – tell me the truth this time." She said.

Clara couldn't help but to smile. "That was quick – it took you two and a half seconds to realize that something was wrong."

Martha pretended to look disappointed. "Two and a half seconds?" She frowned. "Oh, I better brush up on my people skills."

Clara giggled into her hand and shook her head. "It's fine, Martha – just…there's this really, really weird man who moved in yesterday."

Martha was a good listener. Clara found herself spilling all of her frustrations to her friend, not wasting a single breath. She hadn't realized that she had been talking for so long until she finally paused – her throat was beginning to feel sore from her rant.

"Hm…" Martha murmured with a frown. "Well…have you considered the fact that John might like you? That _could _be why he's following you around."

Clara shook her head. "No, I don't think that's it," she replied truthfully. "Martha, there's something…different about him. And by different, I mean _very _different – he doesn't act like normal people."

Martha tapped her desk thoughtfully. "Well, you always have people like that," she said slowly. "Like, I've told you about David, right?"

"David – the bloke with the square glasses and the trench coat, yeah?" Clara asked, biting down on her tongue.

Martha nodded in reply. "He was like that, too – always following me around and everything, that is." She said and Clara couldn't help but to detect a small note of wistfulness in her voice. She couldn't help but to wince.

See, back when Clara was back in England when she was still in uni, Martha was…_seeing _(would that be the proper word in this case?) another, older student named David. Clara thought he was nice enough – he had spiky, messy, dark brown hair and a happy-go-lucky smile and one wicked eyebrow-lift, but there was something about him that looked…sad, almost.

Clara had seen it right away, of course, but Martha didn't. At least, not right away.

For a year or so, Martha and David went out a bit – David seemed happy enough and it was true – he _did _follow Martha around for a bit before actually beginning to go out with her. However, after several weeks of dating, Martha finally admitted to Clara that she felt as though David wasn't really looking at her for who she was – more like he was _remembering _someone.

Clara still remembered how Martha fought to stay strong during those weeks. _It couldn't have been easy, _Clara had thought, _to come second-best and be seen as a ghost. _

Eventually, Martha decided to break up with David – it was a clean break, really, which Clara was grateful for. She was glad to see and hear (she happened to be eavesdropping – she couldn't help herself,) that David was sorry. However, he was a good person – Clara hoped that he would find the perfect match, even if it wasn't Martha.

"Well, maybe it's the same thing – I know it's a stretch, but maybe you remind John of someone." Martha said, bringing Clara back to reality.

Clara blinked and snorted. "Who, _me_?" She asked incredulously. "Well, John better get _that _idea out of his head – because I will _not _be some…some _ghost _from his past. I'm not whoever he thinks he is."

Martha shrugged. "That was just a suggestion, Clara," she said casually. "Who knows, maybe he's just trying to be friendly. He just moved in and he's looking for company – that's not _too _bad, right? It's better than living next to…I dunno, a psychopath."

Clara nodded reluctantly. "I guess you're right." She murmured and looked at the clock. "Blimey – I've better get back to work. I'll call you back later, Martha."

The other woman nodded. She smiled and with a wave, said, "I'll see you later, Clara!"

With one last smile, Clara ended the call. She sat back in her desk-chair and stared at her door with a sigh.

"No, I guess John's not a psychopath," she reasoned out loud. "But he might come awfully close to being one."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know that Martha gets hated on a lot, perhaps even more than Clara...(which I STILL don't understand - I think a lot of people are still sore after the Ponds and Rose...) but she's one of my favorite companions. (Then again, I say that about every companion...) **

**If you were wondering, _yes, _I modeled David after Ten. (I used the same name, too, heehee. XD) Even though Ten and Eleven are the same _person_, I just thought that it would be more fitting to split them up. *shrugs* No, I'm not going to have them related to each other - probably not, seeing that other writers have done that in the past and frankly, I don't want to look like I'm stealing their ideas or something. That'd be very bad. O.O **

**If any of you guys have any questions regarding the story, please shoot them through the private messaging system - I probably won't answer right away, seeing that I'm so busy, but I promise that I _will _make an effort to answer them unless, of course, I might reveal a potential spoiler. (I once had my readers ask me questions through reviews - damn, that was a mistake. O.O) **

**However, please don't hesitate to review, give constructive criticism (if you have any) and please don't flame!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I...am...barely...alive...*faints on the cold, hard ground* After struggling with my laptop for four ****_freaking hours_****, (I literally had four and a half minutes of laptop energy left four hours ago...) I finally ended up writing this chapter. *face plants* I wish I had the Doctor living next door to me to bug me...I really do. **

**Seriously.**

**Anyways, please enjoy this chapter! **

* * *

_"__Be slow to fall into friendship; but when thou art in, be firm and constant." _

_Chapter Three. _

Clara's apartment was silent. The only sounds she could hear were her fingers tapping against the keyboard, the occasional tap of her foot against the floor, and, of course, a rare _ding_ing sound from her phone. She was content with the silence – there was something a bit comforting in it.

Clara narrowed her eyes at the screen of her laptop and bit the tip of her tongue in concentration. She had been re-writing a particular sentence for nearly five minutes now and was _still _wondering _how _to get it right.

"Right, then, Clara girl, you can do this, just _write_." Clara murmured to herself and, throwing her shoulders back, started to type the next few sentences.

_There wasn't a single sound for a hundred miles. It was as though the world had been shut off by a – ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss_

Clara's fingers abruptly stopped moving as an incredibly loud _bang_ echoed from outside her door. She paused, looking at her door curiously and, when she didn't hear the sound again, turned back to her laptop.

"Where was I? Oh, yes," Clara whispered, lifting her hands above the keyboard when –

_Bang!_

Clara gritted her teeth and glared at her door again. "What now?" She mumbled, standing up. "What's going on?"

_Bang!_

"That's it!" Clara cried out indignantly and marched to the door. She yanked it open and stuck her head outside the hallway. At first, she didn't see anything. Then, there was a loud "boo!" and John Smith (unsurprisingly,) jumped out from behind the corner.

Clara glared at John and crossed her arms as he made his way to her door. "Were _you _the one making all that noise outside?" She asked crossly.

"Yes!" John nodded enthusiastically. "I was wondering if you'd come out if I did and – oi, don't close the door!"

Clara sighed wearily as John stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from closing.

"Why are you here at all?" She asked incredulously, and, realizing that John wasn't going to give up, swung the door open. "Listen, I _really _appreciate the fact that you're _trying _to be friendly, but I've said this before and I'll say it again – _I don't have time right now!" _

John cringed and rubbed his ear. "Do you yell like this often?" He asked dubiously.

"Only when I'm being constantly _bothered _by someone!" Clara retorted. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "What are you looking for now, anyways? I've got _many _stories to correct, _several _meetings that I need to prepare for, and –"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me move some boxes around in my apartment. You _did _say that I should come to you for help, you know." John replied quickly, interrupting her.

Clara blinked in surprise and looked up at the man slowly, feeling heat rise to her face. She imagined a small, single raindrop shaped bit of sweat appearing at the back of her head, like in those funny, Japanese cartoons that she had once seen as a child. (It was a phase she was going through – besides, who could resist Pikachu's adorable-ness?)

"Er…" Clara cleared her throat and allowed her hands to fall limply at her sides. "Er…of course. Sorry."

John nodded with a relieved expression on his face. "Come on!" He said, grabbing Clara's arm and dragging her away from her door.

Clara cried out in surprise and let the door shut behind her as John pulled her towards his apartment room. He stuffed a hand in his pocket and, after several seconds of digging around, he yanked out a set of dangling keys. After shifting through the mess of keys, John stuck one of them in and pushed open the door with a flourishing gesture.

"Welcome!" He yelled in his usual loud, cheerful voice. John hurried inside and turned back to look at Clara, who was still waiting in the doorframe.

"Don't be so shy now!" John said with a large, goofy grin. "It's not _that _bad – a bit messy, yes, but you won't find any…mutations of the sort."

Clara managed a small smile and took a few, tentative steps inside before leaning over to grab a box. "Can I start with this one?" She asked, pointing at the box wrapped in silvery duct tape.

John looked down at the box and nodded. "Of course – just hold the item up to me and I'll tell you where to put it." He said with a nod.

The two made quick work. Clara and John sat next to several boxes, and for a few moments, it was rather quiet in the apartment room. Most of the items Clara unloaded were clothes (she never knew what a wide collection of bowties John had…) and books and etc.

Of course, John would occasionally make comments on what he or she unloaded. In fact, most of the items that Clara showed him had a particular story associated with it. Once, she held up a tattered, blue tie and asked John (politely, of course,) if she could throw it out.

"Throw it out?" John asked, wide-eyed. He took the tie from Clara's hands and brought it close to his chest as if he was a young child. "Are you insane? Why would I pack something that I would _throw out?" _

Clara lifted her hands in surrender. "Most people don't carry around…ripped bits of clothing." She replied defensively, already putting her hands in the box to search for other items to unload. "Why would you keep something like that?"

"I wouldn't throw _this _out," John replied, looking at the tie fondly. He held it out at an arm's length and said, "My friend actually dragged me by this actual tie, did you know that?"

Clara blinked and looked up from the books that she was looking through. "Your friend dragged you by the tie?" She asked.

John nodded and stood up. He gently placed the tie inside one of the drawers in a dresser and turned around to look at Clara with misty-eyes and a strange, dreamy expression on his face.

"It was funny – we were all rather…how'd you explain this…scatter-brained at the time. Well, she was more scatter-brained than _I _was…oh, and her boyfriend – also a lovely, lovely person, by the way…he's got a rather funny nose, to be honest – was rather panicky as well. But, in the end, they were brilliant, brilliant, _brilliant _friends." John sighed and pushed himself away from his dresser.

"Anyways." John added hastily, kneeling down next to a box. "We need to take out some more things – ah, here we go…"

And John returned to his normal, senseless, babbling self.

For a few minutes, Clara couldn't do anything but stare at John. Such quick, abrupt mood changes were unknown to Clara, and she was a _woman. _

Clearing her throat, Clara turned back to the box and reached inside to take out some more of John's possessions. He was beginning to hum under his breath. At one point, Clara was positive that he had hummed something along the lines of, "duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-ooooweeooo…" or something like that.

Clara decided not to mention it.

When the sun was sinking on the horizon, Clara finally stood up and glanced at the clock, which read seven o'clock.

"I'll have to get going now," she said, stretching her arms.

John looked up and smiled. "'Course – I'll walk you!" He said, already bouncing up to his feet.

"It's not that bad – it's practically three steps to the door." Clara replied, lifting an eyebrow.

"Doesn't matter! I personally think that it's nice to have company, no matter how long or short you might have it." John replied cheerfully, opening the door.

Clara didn't know how to answer that, so she simply shrugged. The two walked out of the room and Clara reached her door. She pushed a hand into her pocket for her keys, only to find nothing but small balls of lint. Clara frowned and dug around in her pockets.

"Where are they?" She muttered under her breath, patting her hand over her other pocket.

"Where are what?" John asked, frowning.

"My keys!" Clara replied. When coming to a realization that there weren't any keys (or anything, for that matter,) in her pockets, she groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. "I must have left them inside when you brought me out." She said miserably.

John winced. "Er…sorry?" He offered halfheartedly but Clara simply turned on her heel for the stairs.

"Hold on – where are you going?" John asked, following after her.

"I'm going to the lobby – maybe they'll have extra keys!" Clara yelled over her shoulder.

"Maybe I can help – you can kip in my room for tonight, if you'd like –"

"No, thank you!" Clara replied determinedly. Though she had decided that John wasn't _quite _as psychotic as she had initially thought, she wasn't _that _comfortable with him.

"It's really no trouble, it'll be all fine and –"

Clara sighed and whirled around. John abruptly stopped walking and stared at her with his same, hopeful smile on his face.

Clara realized with a start that she was _really _beginning to hate that smile. It wasn't that she hated _him, _(not really, anyways,) but it was just beginning to get on her nerves – really, did John think that she was going to just _get on board _with whatever he had in his head?

"What did I say about crossing boarders?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips. "It was great getting to know you and everything, but don't you think just _inviting me to_ stay for the night when we _just met _is a bit…unordinary?"

"What's wrong with unordinary? Unordinary is interesting!" John protested and Clara shook her head.

"Never mind." She muttered, turning back around. "Just…I'll figure this out on my own, thank you very much – goodnight!"

Without another word, Clara ran down the stairs. She looked up and, to her relief; John was nowhere to be found. She let out a small sigh and reached the lobby, breathless from her small jog. The woman at the desk looked up expectantly and asked, "What can I help you with?"

"Sorry," Clara said, straightening herself. "I left my keys in my apartment room and I was wondering if you had any spares for me to get to my room…?"

The woman smiled. "Oh, don't worry, hun, I'll find some for you right away."

Clara smiled back as the woman opened a drawer in her desk. She began rummaging through it and, after fifteen minutes, she looked back up.

"Just a mo', dearie," the woman said and turned to a phone on her desk. She reached over and punched a number on the keypad. Clara watched as the woman – according to the desk tag, her name was Lisa – said, "Hey, Robert? D'you know where the spare keys went? I'm trying to help out one of the residents here and I can't find the keys."

Clara's heart plunged as Lisa's smile slowly turned into a frown. Did something happen?

"Well, why the hell would you do that?" Lisa asked, shaking her head. "I told you to tell me if you were going to change the appointments like this! No, don't apologize – I want you to apologize the _second _you come back."

With that, Lisa slammed the phone down and looked up at Clara apologetically. "So sorry you had to hear that, hun," she said with another shake of her head. "But it looks like the spares were taken for some fixing of a sort."

Clara's mouth dropped open. "What?" She asked.

"I'm sorry," Lisa replied, and she really _did _look sorry. "But I think you're going to have somewhere else to sleep tonight."

Clara let out a small sigh and pressed her hands to her face tiredly. "Right." She mumbled. "Er…thank you for trying."

Lisa smiled sadly and tapped the phone at her desk. "But, if you want to phone a friend, feel free to use this thing." She said.

Clara managed a small nod before walking up the stairs. She couldn't use the phone – not with all of her friends across the ocean. She reached the third floor and with a sad sigh, walked down the hallway.

"No luck, then?" John asked and Clara looked down at the ground, where the man was sitting. She sighed and leaned against her door. "What do you want now?" She asked tiredly.

"Nothing." John replied with a shrug and stood up. "Nothing, really…because I left my keys inside my apartment room, too."

Clara groaned and slid to the ground, introducing her head to her knees. "You're kidding." She mumbled.

She heard John give a small laugh. "I wish I was," he replied wistfully. "But…yeah, I left 'em inside."

"Well, that's brilliant." Clara managed to mutter and brought her arms around her knees. "Well…the lady at the desk said that the keys won't be coming today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe." John agreed.

The two lapsed back into silence.

_The second I get my keys back, I'm going to shut myself up in my apartment and read all day…_Clara thought tiredly to herself and, closing her eyes, fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Am I going too fast in Clara and John's relationship? Too slow? Just the right pace? I have no idea - I mean, I _guess_ I'm kind of stepping over the line _just a bit _by having John forgetting his keys with Clara, but...as far as anyone's concerned, they're still in their little don't-know-whether-to-be-friends-or-not-stage right now. **

**Yes, I know that most apartment complexes wouldn't forget their spare keys like that (once, when I was on the road with a Science Olympiad team, (big life science geek right here!) my friends and I were sharing a room in this motel. My friends made the mistake of giving _me _the room key and we weren't even in the motel for _an hour _before I got ourselves locked out. Whoops. *smiles sheepishly*) but hey, it's these little, unrealistic things that make the story more interesting. (At least, I hope so...) **

_**Anyways,**_** please review! I _know _that if you're able to hit that fave/follow button, you guys can take _two-five _more seconds to leave a review or a comment about this story. Please? Pleeeeease? *flashes the Doctor's puppy eyes* Just no flames, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Helloooo,**_** all you wonderful, beautiful/handsome readers! (Yes, you're beautiful/handsome/whatever-you-want-to-be-called, because we all know that Whovians are beautiful/handsome/whatever-you-want-to-be-called!) **

**Thank you so much for the support - it truly means a lot! Now that summer is ****_finally _****here, (I still have to do this graduation ceremony thingie tomorrow...but technically, I'm out of school now because ****_I don't have to study for two and a half months!_****) I can write more! :) **

**Anyways, I took some of the advice that you readers gave me and this was the product. I hope you all enjoy! :) MWAH!**

* * *

_"__In order to have friends, you must first be one." _

_Chapter Four. _

Something was poking Clara's arm repeatedly – it wasn't a hard poke, but it was still annoying. Every two seconds, Clara would subconsciously feel her arm being nudged by (what she hoped was,) a finger. She let out a small sigh and rolled over on her side. "Go 'way," she murmured, reaching down to bring her blanket closer to her – where was her blanket?

"Can't," a deeper, male voice replied and Clara sighed, giving up her search for her blanket and simply curling up to sneak in some more seconds of sleep.

"Clara?" The voice continued and Clara felt another poke, only this time, it was sharper. "Wake up, please."

_Hm…since when did I invite any men into my apartment? _Clara thought sleepily to herself, a smile forming on her lips. _Hm…wonder if he's nice…definitely sounds nice…where's the blanket…? _

Suddenly, Clara's eyes fluttered open and with a gasp, found herself on the floor. She sat up quickly and looked around wildly, temporarily forgetting where she was. Then, she spotted John, who was sitting only a few inches away from her.

"Oh, thank _goodness_ you're awake – I thought I was going to have to shake you," John said, relieved.

Clara sighed and stood up. "What is it?" She asked, rubbing her temples. She looked up to see daylight filtering through a window in the hallway. "Have we been here all night?"

"Apparently." John replied with a nod. "The desk lady – Lisa, I think her name was, lovely person – came up to tell us that the spare keys will be here within a few minutes or so."

"Brilliant." Clara said, brushing down her clothes. She looked back up at John, who still happened to be staring.

"What?" She asked. "Have I got something on my face?"

"Hm? No, no, of course not," John replied quickly, sticking his hands awkwardly in his pockets. "Actually, I was wondering if you were…if you could go out for some caf today? I know that you said you were busy, but I was hoping that you could spare a few minutes. You know, just for today." He gave Clara a puppy-like smile.

Clara sighed and rubbed her brow, looking down at the ground. She dared not look back up in case John still had the ridiculous, hopeful smile on his face. "You're _really _not going to give up, _are _you?" She asked tiredly.

"Nope!" John replied cheerfully, all shyness and bashfulness vaporizing.

_I'm going to regret this, _Clara thought sadly to herself, casting a look at her apartment door. She shifted her position and finally turned to look back up at her neighbor. "Fine." She replied, shaking her head as John gave a childlike cheer of triumph.

"_But _you're going to give me a few minutes to change." Clara added, placing her hands at the hips.

"Fine, fine." John replied with a toothy grin. Clara could only sigh back in response.

xXx

Once Lisa had unlocked Clara and John's doors and Clara had changed into a respectable outfit, the two young, English neighbors met each other outside in the hallway.

"Took you long enough!" John said, his eyebrows jumping to his hairline in surprise once Clara opened the door. "Blimey, do _all _girls take this long to prepare?"

Clara stuck her phone in her pocket and replied, "Only girls who've been locked out of their apartments for a good, long ten hours."

John smiled sheepishly. "I suppose that's fair," he replied and stuck out the crook of his elbow in Clara's direction. The brunette looked at John's elbow apprehensively. "What?" She asked, confused.

"You're supposed to take it." John replied, frowning. "I'm sure other men had done this before to you!"

"Whoa, slow _down_," Clara said, lifting her hands and taking a small step backwards, "we're still on square one, alright? This is only a short, innocent trip to the café, not some fancy trip to Buckingham Palace."

John's frown deepened and he dropped his arm limply to his side. "Who said that we were on 'square one'?" He asked, making air quotation marks with his fingers. "I'm only asking you to go out for some coffee, not asking for your hand in marriage!"

Clara stared. "Well, by the way you're _acting_, you might as well have!" She retorted, crossing her arms.

"_Blimey_," John replied, rubbing his brow, "and you're telling _me _I'm going too fast? Do you _want _me to ask you for your hand in marriage? Is that it?"

Clara felt heat creep up to her neck – what an _awful _idea! She threw up her hands in protest. "_No!_" She replied heatedly. "Again, _you're _the one acting like you want to ask my hand in marriage!"

"My _goodness_, no _wonder _you were looking at me strangely when I stuck out my elbow – you've never been out with a man, have you?" John asked with wide eyes.

"I'm not going _out _with you!" Clara could only reply, her cheeks flushing. "And for your information, I actually _have _gone out with people before."

"Oh, really? With whom?" John asked, clasping his hands in front of him. Clara's face deepened into a fine, rich, red color and snapped, "That's none of your business! Besides, you wouldn't know them, anyways!"

"Oh, _please_, don't tell me that rubbish – I'd _love _to hear you talk about your exes –" John said lightly and was promptly answered by a sharp, annoyed poke from the shorter brunette.

"Will you _stop?" _She asked indignantly. "We've been sitting out here and arguing for nearly _four minutes!_"

"I don't see how you're complaining – you started the argument first. Besides, for _your _information, I'm _not _asking you out on a date – good heavens, no. I'm asking you if you'd _like to go to a café _with me as a _friend. _Isn't that what friends do?" John asked, sticking his hands in his pocket. However, he started to make his way down the hallway.

Clara walked after him and replied, "Not really! Friends usually go to the mall and shop for things or watch films together _as a group _or –"

"Is that all you and your friends do? My, my, then – sounds positively boring." John replied over his shoulder, making a short stop at the staircase to wait for Clara.

Clara, once catching up to him, replied, "Oh, really? Then what do _you _do with your friends?"

"I do these sorts of things! Go to the amusement park, travel around the world with them, make little stops at the café…" John ticked off each activity with his fingers and turned around to look at Clara. "You know, I actually have a friend who happens to be a girl – you'd probably like her very much. She's constantly getting on my case."

Clara paused and leaned on the railing of the staircase. She crossed her ankles and her arms together and asked, "Is that why you keep following me? Because I remind you of your _friend?" _

John blinked and frowned. "What? Where would you get such a ridiculous notion?" He asked. "If I followed around girls because I thought that they were like my friend, I'd be going nowhere in my life." He laughed and shook his head. "No, no, no – though you _do _act a bit like her, I don't think I'm trying to be friendly simply because of that."

Clara, still suspicious, simply managed a shrug. "Fine," she replied, "but I'm still keeping my mind on that concept, so you're not _totally _off the hook."

To this, John responded with a mocking salute, which he quickly dropped when Clara poked him again. "Oi!" John cried out, rubbing his arm. "That _hurt!_"

Clara let out a small laugh and ran down the stairs. "Sorry, not sorry!" She replied joyfully and shrieked as she heard John thundering down the steps after her. Faster than lightning, the two youths were running down the stairs, getting lost in the hallways of the apartment complex, and coming to breathless stops around the corners of the corridors.

Finally, Clara and John (somehow) found themselves in the lobby, panting and red-faced from the chase.

"I…caught…you…" John said heavily, slowly straightening himself. "You've…stopped…running, haven't you?"

Clara bent down over her knees and puffed out a few breaths before replying, "Well, yes…but…that…doesn't necessarily mean that you caught up…to me…I stopped…on _purpose._"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, just tell me that I won." John replied with a wide grin as he waited for Clara to stand. At long last, the brunette managed to straighten herself and the two walked out of the doors with identically cheerful smiles on their faces.

xXx

The café was a nice one – much nicer than the past cafés that Clara had been in in her previous years. Small, glowing balls of light dangled from the ceiling and shining, glossy mahogany tables were spread out across the room. Wide, reflecting windows were spread out every few feet from each other and they were all open, letting in the smell of fresh air and flowers, which mixed with the smell of baking pastries and coffee and tea.

"How did you already know about this place?" Clara asked, sitting down at one of the tables. She looked around – besides a few still sleepy people, the café was empty. "I've never been here before, and I've been in this town for an entire year."

John grinned, placing his elbows on the table. "I came here the first day I moved to this place." He replied. "I was _exhausted_, by the way, and this café was the first thing in the town that sold caffeine drinks."

"You? Exhausted?" Clara snorted, resting her chin on her folded hands. "I can't imagine that, for some odd reason."

"'For some odd reason'," John mused with a wide grin and continued, "well, Clara, it's true – believe it or not, I am capable of being exhausted."

Clara only rolled her eyes and shook her head until a waitress with shiny, chocolate brown hair came to their table. Wearing a large, plastic smile the waitress asked, "Would you two like to order anything?"

"Just two coffees, if you please, June." John replied elegantly and gave the waitress a wide, beaming smile. Feigning an overly-sweet giggle, _June _nodded and walked away.

"June?" Clara asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you know her before you came into town?"

John blinked, confused and replied awkwardly, "She had a nametag."

"Oh." Clara muttered stupidly and tapped her fingers on the table to avoid looking at John. "Er…anyways."

"Anyways," John repeated brightly, "what did you say you were? An editor?"

Clara nodded, gratefully accepting the conversation opener. "Yes," she replied, "it's loads of fun, really – I always get to meet new writers and read new stories and et cetera. Well, it's fun if you like that sort of thing."

John stared at Clara peculiarly and asked, "But do you just really sit and write notes and edit things all day? Sounds awfully boring, if you ask me."

"Thankfully, I _didn't _ask you." Clara pointed out, to which John merely huffed at. "And again, it's only for people who like that sort of thing."

"Reading and writing all day? Don't get me wrong – I love reading as much as the next fellow, but doing it all day can be simply _horrid._" John shuddered. Clara crossed her arms defensively and asked, "Really? Then, what do _you _do if my job is oh-so-horrid?"

John drummed his fingers against the table and replied dramatically, "I'm a photographer."

Clara snorted and crossed her arms. "A photographer? I always thought that photographers sat around all day." She replied, still wounded by John's earlier comment about editors. "And I can _never _picture you sitting around all day."

John crossed his arms. "Photographers don't just _sit around all day!_" He protested and with a flourishing gesture, added, "Photographers _travel the world!_ We _see _things! Can you imagine holding something as big and clunky as a camera and just…taking one, quick, _beautiful _shot that'll last forever?"

Clara's annoyance slowly melted into awe as John started to talk about the brilliance of photography – of the joys of traveling the world. Now, since Clara loved the idea of going around the world as much as John did, she couldn't help but to feel a _bit _more interested about John's job. In fact, she was _so _focused on John's lecture that she hadn't even noticed that June had walked by, given them their coffees, and left.

Once John finally let out a breath after his speech, he picked up his mug and said, "And _that, _Clara, is why being a photographer is the best job in the world."

Clara smiled and took a sip of coffee from the mug. "Really – how long have you been a photographer?" She asked lightly.

The man beamed at her, obviously pleased to see that she had softened her opinion on photography. "For a bit over two years now." He replied, clasping his hands. "I'm only staying in New York for a year to take some shots – after that, I'm off to South Korea to take some shots on the Secret Garden and the Changdeokgyung Palace and et cetera."

"South Korea." Clara murmured. "That's a long way off – have you been there before?"

"Once, with my friends." John replied, fingering the handle of the mug with a peculiar expression on his face. "It's been a while, though."

Before Clara could ask what he meant by those words, a small, buzzing noise sounded from across the table. John grimaced and reached into his pocket. "Give me a minute, will you?" He said and took out a phone – his phone.

John looked down at the number that was calling him and frowned. Clara watched as he slowly brought it up to his ear and called, "Hello?"

There was immediately a loud, shrieking sound from the other end of the phone, and though John hadn't put the thing on speaker, Clara could still catch a few fast, excited words. She was fairly sure that the caller was female, and, judging by her voice, she sounded Scottish.

"Oi! Not so loud!" John yelped, immediately separating his ear from the phone. "You're going to make me deaf!"

There was a pause and then a wide grin took over John's face. "You're _where_?" He asked joyfully.

Pause.

"Got it! I'll come meet you right away! Is Rory there? Oi, Rory! Hello, Rory!" John laughed and went on, "I'll see you in a few minutes! G'bye!"

With that, John hung up and tucked his phone back in his pocket, his wide smile never once leaving his face. "Come on, you need to meet some people!" He said, throwing a few bills on the table. Without another word, John grabbed Clara's wrist and dragged her out of the café.

"What _are _you doing? I thought we were just going out for coffee and…" Clara's voice trailed off as John dragged her towards the apartment building. Within seconds, she found herself in a small car – his car, by the looks of it – and being belted in.

"Some of my friends came to New York from England – you _must _meet them!" John said loudly, starting up the car and shutting the door at the same time.

Clara's mouth dropped open. "_What?!_" She yelped. "_Now?!" _

John mistook Clara's shock for glee and beamed at her. "See, I knew you'd love the idea! Oh, I can't wait for you to meet them!"

Clara couldn't bring herself to say anything as John drove away from the apartment building.

* * *

**A/N: Guess who's coming 'round the mountain? XD [I know, super cheesy and dumb joke, but...if it works, it works! XD] **

**As always, _please _don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts! I mean, if you guys can take two seconds to follow/fave this story, (which, I'm totally grateful for, by the way,) I think you guys can take ten more seconds to just tell me what you think about this chapter. I'm not only talking about myself, either - I _hate _it when I see an AWESOME story (not saying that this story _is _awesome, because, again, that's _your _opinion,) that has like, 50 followers, 45 favorites, but only fifteen reviews. Like, hello?! I mean, I'm _definitely _not a math genius, but I'm pretty sure that the ratio isn't accurate!  
**

**Sorry. I just _had _to rant about that - not saying that I'm totally grateful for all the support that you guys are giving me _now _- but I just hope that this only made you guys want to review stories more often. :) **

**With that being said, please review, give constructive criticism if you have any (regarding the chapter, I mean - not the note...because for some reason, people like to send me hate messages over what I say in the note, as if the _note _was the story itself...which I get confused about...) but please don't flame me! Have a nice day/evening/night/morning/whatever-there-is-left-in-this-forsaken-universe!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello, **_**my wonderful readers! I'm back with another chapter! I ****_finally _****got out of this writer's block, and though I'm updating within a reasonable amount of days, I actually only got out of the block ****_now_**** and it could've been much, much worse. For heaven's sake, I couldn't write anything for ****_three entire days! THREE DAYS! _****I'm sure some of you guys have had worse writing blocks, but to me, that's insane. I cannot survive for too long without ****_wanting to write something. _**

**Anyways. Maybe, that's just me. Who knows. I've also got this very strange tendency to want ****_to update something all the freaking time! UGH! _****Heeheehee...again, maybe that's just me. *shrugs* **

**And it probably doesn't help that I was watching ****_Elementary _****and ****_Doctor Who _****and ****_Merlin _****all in the same day today - my heart is just...aaah the feels. (For those of you who haven't watched ****_Elementary _****or ****_Merlin, _****watch it! YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED! I know there's this big thing between ****_Elementary _****fans and BBC ****_Sherlock _****fans, but both shows are ****_amazing!_****) **

**Aaand I'm going off-topic again - please enjoy the chapter! :) **

* * *

_"__Go out into the world and love the people you meet. Let your presence light new light in the hearts of others." _

_Chapter Five. _

Clara's head was still spinning when John parked the car in the airport's parking lot. She peered out of the window and heard John unbuckling his own seatbelt. "Come on, don't just sit there!" John said excitedly, flicking Clara's arm. "And wipe that frown off your face! You'll _love _the Ponds!"

"Oh, look, they have last names!" Clara said sarcastically, but unbuckled herself from her seat. "You know, it would be _wonderful _to meet them, but I don't know _anything else _about them!"

John smiled non-apologetically and said, "You don't need to know about people before you meet them! That'd be the most ridiculous concept in the world! Now go on, I've seen _snails _move faster than you!"

Clara groaned and stepped out of the car. "_You _are ridiculous!" She retorted. John walked around the car and tapped his foot impatiently as Clara closed the car's door.

The second she had straightened herself, John grabbed her elbow and dragged her across the parking lot. "Hey!" Clara yelled out, surprised and struggled to keep up with her excitable neighbor. "Will you…will you just calm down for a moment?"

"Can't! Why would you _calm down _on momentous occasions such as these?" John yelled over his shoulder, swinging open one of the doors.

"I'm meeting your _friends _– that's hardly momentous!" Clara shouted back but ran a bit faster to keep herself in step with John. Of course, her attempt at this was rather unsuccessful. She followed John up three escalators, rounded more than twenty corners, and raced down ten rather long hallways. (And, mind you, those hallways are awfully long.)

By the time Clara and John had finally came to a stop, Clara was out of breath and red-faced from her effort of running. She slowly bent down at the knees and took a few deep, uneven breaths. John sat down at one of the seats and checked the clock on the wall. "Hm…brilliant, we're a bit early!"

"A bit…early? Then, why would you…make us run…so fast?" Clara asked breathlessly. "And I thought you said your friends were already here!"

"No, there's the entire thing of baggage claim and checking and other lovely things like that." John replied, checking the clock again. "I'm guessing that it'll take them approximately ten minutes to get here."

Clara bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in frustration at John. She crossed her arms and plopped down a few seats away from John, determined to not look at him. _An afternoon…wasted. I should be editing. _Clara thought angrily to herself. _And I'll need to meet with the head editors and writers soon…_

"Penny for your thoughts?" John asked suddenly, clasping his hands on his lap. "I know this is quite sudden, but…the Ponds will make up for it."

"Wonderful." Clara muttered sarcastically under her breath and felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. "I've got to read this." She said flatly to John and whipped it out in her hands. Clara opened up her messages to see that the head editor had left a text message for her.

_Clara Oswald – writer Kalifa Whinford would like to talk to you tomorrow at ten o'clock am to discuss the edits you made on her story. _

Clara sighed and tapped a quick reply – _I understand. Ten o'clock it is. _

"Who's this?" John asked, leaning over Clara's arm to look at the messages on her phone. Clara turned around and frowned, putting her phone back in her pocket. "The head editor – my boss." She replied loftily. "I've got a surprise meeting tomorrow."

"Does this editor have a name?" John asked curiously, resting his chin on his hands and placing his elbows on his armrest. Clara rolled her eyes and pushed his elbows away from her armrest before replying, "Idelette Olsen. She's fairly new as the head editor, but she's hardworking and quick most of the time."

"Ah. So, would I have to worry about you being dragged away by her?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clara blinked and replied, "Er…I don't think so. I'm a stay-at-home writer, so most of the time, she won't be calling me constantly."

"Well, that's great. Wonderful, actually." John grinned enthusiastically and turned back around.

For a few minutes, the two sat quietly beside each other until a loud, "Raggedy man!" rang through the entire hallway. John looked up quickly and jumped to his feet. Clara turned around to see a red-haired, young woman running up to John with a sandy-haired, blue-eyed man close on her heels.

"Amy! Rory!" John shouted, opening his arms. Clara watched as the red-haired woman – Amy – jumped into John's arms with a loud, joyful laugh.

John grinned and planted a kiss on her forehead before turning to the blue-eyed man – Rory – who gave him an awkward, sheepish smile. "Ah, come here, you!" John laughed, folding Rory in his arms.

"Nice to see you, Doctor," Rory grinned, clapping John on the shoulder. Clara crossed her arms, a small smile twitching on her lips. "_Doctor?_" She asked incredulously.

Amy and Rory turned to look at Clara. Their reactions were immediate when they came to a realization that she was with John.

"Ooh, John, who's this?" Amy asked, walking over to Clara with a wide, beaming grin.

"I'm Clara Oswald." Clara said quickly, crossing his arms. "And erm…John and I aren't…we're not –"

"We're not together, if that's what you were wondering." John interrupted, pocketing his hands. "She's just a friend. My neighbor, actually."

Amy nodded slowly and extended a hand. "Well, Clara Oswald, I'm Amelia Pond, but you can just call me Amy. As for John Smith – well, Rory and I knew him _way back _– we knew each other since primary school, actually."

"Wow." Clara only managed to say. "So…"

"I liked to call him Raggedy Man because on the very first day of school, he arrived in this very, very rumpled dress-shirt and an oversized tie. It was ripped up, too and the teacher tried to send John home at once."

_The dress-shirt I unpacked…the tie…_Clara thought to herself but continued to listen to Amy, who seemed rather enthusiastic in telling the story.

"And then Rory and I – you know, John was the new student – talked to him and we asked him what he was. We thought he was an alien, actually. Little kids, am I right?" Amy tossed her head back, laughing and poked John in the arm, who smiled widely at the memories.

"_Anyways, _he just told us that he was the Doctor. Nothing else – just the _Doctor _and we were to call him that for the rest of our lives. Of course, that plan lasted only for a few minutes when the teacher took attendance." Amy finished with a flourish, swinging an arm over John's shoulders.

Clara grinned and planted her hands on her hips. "_Doctor_, then, is it? Doctor who?" She asked.

"Oh, we haven't heard that one in ages!" Amy giggled.

Rory smiled. "We would tell strangers that John's name was the Doctor – it drove everyone insane and they often asked _Doctor who?_ Hearing you say that is really…well, it brings back a lot of fond memories." He said to Clara's confused, bewildered face.

"Ah." Clara said, drawing out the word slowly. She shifted in her feet and gestured down the hallway. "Anyways – er, shall we get going now?"

"Of course!" John said, suddenly coming out of his daze. "Oh, wait 'till you two see the town we're living in – truly quaint and wonderful – nothing at all like England." He grabbed Amy and Rory's arms and without another word, dragged them away from the hallways.

Clara let out a small breath and took out her phone. She might as well _pretend _to look busy. "Don't mind me," she murmured under her breath as she ran after the trio.

xXx

The entire car ride back to the apartment building seemed to be long and tedious to Clara. She was in the backseat with Rory, who, although was just as friendly as John had said, seemed just as interested in catching up with John. Not that Clara blamed him, of course, but she couldn't help but to feel just a _bit _put-off.

She crossed her ankles and pulled out her phone again, only this time, typing aimless, stupid notes. At one point, she typed, "_asfieflskdf…lalalaowwww…" _simply just to keep herself busy. This could have gone on for quite some time, only after a few minutes of doing this, Clara started to feel dizzy and was forced to put her phone down and listen to mainstream music from the radio and Amy, Rory and John's excited, fast chatter.

Clara sighed and closed her eyes. She could at least try to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep before going back to her apartment room and prepare for tomorrow's meeting.

Clara hadn't even closed her eyes for more than thirty seconds before John yelled, "_Clara don't you dare fall asleep! We've got some much to do today!" _

The brunette jumped and sat up quickly. Her eyes snapped open and glared at the back of John's head. His eyes were in the rearview mirror, staring right at Clara. "Ah, there we go!" He said cheerfully. "Come on, we're almost home – we'll just get Amy and Rory unpacked and then we'll be off to showing them around. I'll need you to help!"

Clara straightened herself and folded her hands in her lap. "I am _not _acting as a tour guide!" She said indignantly. "You know, I have a life outside of this, too! Ever since you came here, I've done _nothing _except waking up earlier than my alarm, helping _you _unpack _numerous _boxes, get locked out of my own apartment room, dragged around the town, and even _going to the airport to pick up your friends!_ I've been trying _so hard _to remain patient with you and you're not exactly as awful as I thought you were, but I just _need you to understand _that I'm _not _going to follow you around wherever you will go!"

Clara's outburst left a strange, ringing sensation in her ears and the silence that followed wasn't much help, either. She swallowed and slowly looked up at the rearview mirror. John was staring at Clara and for a few moments, they didn't do much except simply stare at each other through the glass.

Amy was shooting small, almost _nervous _glances at John and Rory was shifting in his feet uncomfortably. Clara bit down on her lip and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"I'm…sorry," she finally muttered. "I didn't mean to…" Her voice trailed off as the car came to a stop. She looked out the window and with a sharp breath, realized that they were parking in front of the apartment building.

John wordlessly got out of the car opened the door on Clara's side. He kept his eyes to the ground and simply murmured, "If you're…tired and don't want to talk for today, that's completely fine. Er…I'll see you around."

Clara swallowed and chewed the insides of her cheeks until she was sure that they were going to be bruised later from her teeth. "I'm sorry." She repeated awkwardly. "I didn't mean all of that."

John shrugged again. "It's completely fine." He said in an emotionless tone. "I suppose I can get a bit…excited sometimes. I don't blame you for being a bit sick of it. Well. Anyways." He fingered his bowtie for a minute and then straightened it with some dignity. "If you're ever tired of me, you only had to…say so."

Clara felt Amy and Rory's eyes locking onto her back but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else as she started to walk into the building. Her ears were still ringing. She felt warmth gather on the surface of her cheeks and neck and with a start, Clara realized that she was _embarrassed. _

"There you go again, Clara," she murmured sadly to herself. "You just _had _to be bossy, now, didn't you?"

With a heavyhearted sigh, Clara walked up the stairs and stood before her apartment door. She pulled out her keys and was about to unlock her door before she turned back around to look at the stairwell. Guilt was beginning to creep into her heart – John had been nothing but sweet and friendly towards her. Of course, he had a strange tendency to be rather demanding himself, but isn't everyone demanding?

"You were new here once, too," Clara mused to herself. "And it was lonely, wasn't it? John was just looking for a friend." She looked back at her apartment and for the second time this day, she thought, _I'm going to regret this, aren't I? _

But this time, those thoughts weren't quite as exasperated or as tired-sounding in her head as before. She heard John and Amy and Rory making their way up the stairs, undoubtedly hauling suitcases to the apartment room.

Clara slowly walked over to the stairwell and leaned against the wall. She looked down to see John looking right back up at her, surprise written all over his face. She sighed and walked down the steps. Without a word, Clara reached down, plucked the suitcase – gosh, it's heavy! – from John's hands and walked – well, _staggered _would be a better term – back up with it.

She walked over to John's apartment door and set it down. Clara slowly turned around to look at Amy, Rory and John staring at her with the same, wondrous looks on their faces. Clara cleared her throat and looked down at her feet. After a few seconds, she looked back up and said softly, "I'd be happy to help."

Wide, cheerful smiles broke out on each person's face and Clara suddenly found herself surrounded by John and his friends.

"Wonderful," John said cheerfully, squeezing Clara's shoulder.

Clara smiled and turned to Amy and Rory. "Er – I'm sorry. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." She said slowly.

Amy laughed and linked her arm in Clara's. "Oh, Clara," she said fondly, as though the two young women were old friends, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"_Casablanca reference!_" John was heard yelling from inside the apartment room.

And suddenly, everything seemed somewhat better. Clara grinned back at Amy and they all walked into John's apartment room.

For a few minutes, the only things they could do was straighten out the room and help unpack Amy and Rory's bags.

"How long are you going to be staying here?" Clara asked cheerfully, handing Amy a bundle of shirts from her suitcase. Amy wrung the shirts in her hands and replied, "A few weeks, maybe a few months, tops. Rory works as a nurse and he's got a big break since he works so hard." She finished this sentence with a quick kiss on Rory's cheek.

Clara startled and watched the two of them. "Oh…are you two married?" She asked and flicked a glance at their hands. Sure enough, both Amy and Rory had a ring on their index fingers.

"I somehow said yes to this stupid face." Amy replied fondly, resting her head on Rory's shoulder. "We were friends for as long as we could remember, so…"

"Wow." Clara said, amazed. She smiled and continued, "Well, you two look _very _sweet together."

"Oh, yes, very sweet." John said suddenly, throwing a shirt over at Clara's direction. Clara flinched and caught it, surprised by his decision to come out of his quiet zone. "Funny what marriage does, eh?"

Clara looked over at Amy and Rory, confused but the two simply shrugged. She turned back to John but before she could say anything else, he clasped his hands together and said, "Maybe that's enough unloading – how about some lunch, instead?"

* * *

**A/N: No, I have _not _watched _Casablanca, _but I've seen my dad watching it and that quote just happened to pop up whilst I was searching for some quotes for this chapter. (In case you guys haven't noticed, I actually _do _use quotes as an introduction to each and every chapter. It's something new I'm trying out. I don't know all of the writers of those quotes, but I'm sure I can track it down if you asked. :)) **

**As always, _please _review - I would _love _to hear what you all have to say. Give constructive criticism if you have any and please don't flame! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Finally...decided...to...update! GAAAH! I totally forgot about this story until two nights ago when I was skimming through my stories. O.O I don't know HOW I forgot about this story, but I just DID. Am I the only one who gets those stupid brain fart moments? **

**Anyways, I got to work on this chapter and...viola (or however you spell it...) I finished! Enjoy! **

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_"__Friendship is a comforting smile, a familiar voice that warms the heart, and the freedom to be the person God intended." _

_Chapter Six. _

The group was in the same café that John and Clara had visited earlier in the morning. This time, however, the café was crowded with more people than there was earlier that day. They made their way to a table and quietly sat down. Amy looked around the building and grinned. "Wow," she whistled. "This place is neat."

"It is." John agreed, placing his hands on the table. He played with his thumbs a bit and calling over a waitress, was quickly occupied with the orders of Amy and Rory and Clara. However, once the waitress left, John lapsed back into silence. Clara tapped her fingers along the table, her eyes flitting up to meet John's. The sudden quietness from the man was unsettling. Was it odd for her to miss his usual useless prattle?

She cleared her throat awkwardly and turned to Amy. "So…" She murmured. "Is there a reason why you came to New York?"

Amy grinned and pointed at John. "To see him, of course! It's been a while – Rory finally got a break from his nursing job and well…" She let out a small laugh. "We saw a chance and we took it." Amy folded her hands on the table and went on, "Besides, it looks like we came here at a good time, too, _if _you know what I mean."

Clara frowned and flitted her eyes over to John, then back to Amy. "What do you mean?" She asked.

Amy blinked, surprised. "Isn't it obvious? You like John, don't you?" She asked incredulously. Before Clara could object, Amy shook her head and swung an arm over her shoulders. "It's fine, it's fine – really, John's a bit loud, but you two will get on just fine and I'll help you, yeah? It'll be great!"

Clara smiled weakly and replied, "Er…I'm not…John and I –" She glanced over at John and gave him a meaningful stare, as though to say _help me!_

John, thankfully, caught on and quickly said, "Clara and I aren't a couple." He pointed at Clara and a small spark of excitement lit up in his eyes. "See? The day after I moved in, she wouldn't even _talk _to me!"

"Well, to be fair, _you _woke me up and told me that we had places to see and things to do." Clara retorted, all awkwardness vaporizing between the two. "Not to mention that you _took my papers _and _read them _and _followed me around_."

"Oh, come on! It wasn't _that _bad!" John protested. "And then you helped me unpack my things, remember? I wasn't so bad then!"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Don't forget you _made me _lose my keys! We were stuck outside in the hallway!" She argued. She felt Amy and Rory exchange knowing glances and though she felt a twinge of indignation, she decided not to acknowledge them.

"_Hey! _I did not _make you _lose your keys! It's hardly _my _fault you were distracted!" John said, pointing an accusatory finger at Clara.

"_You were the distraction!_" Clara was hollering shrilly now. She hadn't realized how loud she was until she caught sight of a few glares being thrown at her direction from other customers. Blushing, Clara resumed to tapping her fingers on the table and looked down at the tiles on the floor.

Amy let out a low whistle and said, "_Well…_seems like you two have been through an awful lot."

"You could say that." Clara replied casually, causing John to laugh. As the meals came to their tables, Clara couldn't help but to feel a bit warmer inside – at least John wasn't being quiet anymore. She was glad. Being quiet wasn't exactly working for John. Though she wouldn't admit it, she preferred the loud, annoying form of John rather than the freakishly silent and moody kind of John.

_Look at yourself – thinking about what kind of aspects John has, _Clara thought to herself as she dug into her sandwich. _Who would have thought you cared? _

_Well, he's a nice person, once you get to know him. _Clara added with a small smile. She then looked back up at John and immediately snorted – the man had a thin, almost invisible, bubbly mustache of orange soda over his lips.

"What?" John asked, puzzled at Clara's expression. She simply shook her head and nudged Amy, who looked up from her own meal. Amy, too, took one look at John and laughed loudly, shaking her head. It wasn't really a big deal – it was common to see an orange soda mustache, but for some reason, this moment seemed rather precious to Clara. She couldn't explain it – it was kind of that feeling when you were hanging with your best girlfriends, or riding a roller-coaster for the first time or going out to the beach with your entire family – there wasn't anything _too _special, but at the same time, it was the kind of moment that you wanted to preserve in your memory forever.

Amy took a rather large swig from her own soda and looked back up with an identical, bubbly mustache. Clara giggled into her hand and she, too, took a few sips of her soda before re-appearing with her own little mustache. Amy turned to Rory and pointed at her mustache wordlessly. With a smile, the man had a thin line of bubbles over his lips.

The group all took long, serious stares at each other (and their mustaches – John had to take another swallow from his soda to re-grow – er – re-form his mustache,) before bursting out into loud fits of laughter. Again, Clara found it rather odd how amusing it all was – there wasn't anything _too special _about these little things, but it was certainly enjoyable to have such moments.

And then, at that very moment, it struck Clara how very lonely she was by herself until now. Of course, she always had her Skype sessions with Martha, but it could only last for so long, seeing that her friend lived all the way in England. Clara was friendly with her fellow editors, but then again, they had their own friends and well, Clara was still fairly new – she couldn't be expected to get into the full swing of things so easily.

But now, laughing with Rory and Amy and John, Clara felt a warm, fizzy, tingling feeling spread over her chest and explore to her head and her toes. _Cheers, _she thought cheerfully to herself, lifting her glass to re-fresh her soda mustache.

"We look ridiculous!" Amy grinned, yanking out her phone. "And so, we'll have to take a picture."

Clara giggled and pretended to duck under the table. "Nooo…" She stretched out the word teasingly. "Not the pictures! Anything but the pictures! Aaaah!"

"Nope, nope, we're gonna take the pictures, whether you like it or not!" Amy replied, grabbing Clara's arm and yanking her back. She adjusted the camera in her phone and turned to Rory and John with a devilish smile. "Come on, you two!" Amy said. "Get in!"

Exchanging rolling eyes and feigning exasperated sighs, the two men walked around behind Amy and Clara to fit into the phone's camera frame. John placed his hands around Clara's shoulders, whereas Rory simply wrapped both of his arms around Amy's torso. The four all smiled widely at the phone and then, with a snap, the picture was taken.

Giving Rory a quick peck on the cheek, Amy settled back into her seat and looked over the picture. "Nice!" She cheered. "Of course, I can't top off John's photographs, but hey, it's a phone – you have to cut me some slack."

Amy started tapping the screen and asked, "Clara, what's your email? I'm going to be sending this picture – figured you would like that."

Clara beamed. "Oh, yes, of course." She replied, letting her enthusiasm slip further than she had meant to. Apparently, John also noticed, for he gave Clara a wide smile and said, "Look at you, turning into a social butterfly! Never knew you were capable of being friendly 'till now!"

Clara responded by throwing her napkin at the man, though she, too, couldn't resist smiling. "Yes, well, Amy and Rory are _different _and so far, they haven't done anything unexpected, like waking me up at an ungodly time." She replied pointedly.

"But it was _seven in the morning!_" John whined, sounding very much like a child. "That's not ungodly!"

"It is for me!" Clara replied and turned to Amy, quickly delivering her email address. Flashing a thumbs-up, Amy quickly typed in the email. With a satisfied sigh, Clara turned back around and pushed her plate away from herself. "Well…is everyone else finished?" She asked cheerfully.

"Yes," Amy and Rory and John all replied in unison. John dug out his wallet and said, "Lunch is on me! We've got other things to do today, so chop, chop!"

xXx

Amy flopped down on the pull-out couch, placing a hand dramatically over her face. "I'm _so glad _we have a few hours before John takes us to…wherever he's taking us." She said with a happy sigh. Clara sat down on the ground and grinned. "I would think you would," she replied. "Must be tiring, just getting off a plane and being swept off to…here."

"That's how John moves." Rory said, walking into the room with two mugs of coffee in his hands. He handed one to Amy and sat down next to her. Clara crossed her legs and propped herself up with her elbows. "What do you mean?" She asked.

Rory shrugged. "You know, that's what John likes to do – he likes to make an adventure of everything. Always moving, always exploring, always traveling…can be kind of tiring." He brought the cup to his lips and taking a quick sip from it, added, "Not that John's a bad friend – he's great. Really."

Clara nodded knowingly. "I always figured as much." She replied. "But at least he's happy."

Amy laughed. "Yeah, that, too. He gives you that kind of vibe, you know?"

Clara smiled in agreement. "I can't argue with that," she chuckled. "Even though it can be mighty annoying at times – honestly, here I am, trying to _sleep_, and he wants to drag me out and…well, he thinks he's Aladdin or something! You know, that Disney animated movie and the cheesy _I Can Show You the World _song?"

Amy snorted into her mug and looked back up with a wide grin. "That's John animated into a Disney character." She said, feigning a grave, serious tone. "He is a reincarnated version of Aladdin and you, Clara Oswald, are Princess Jasmine."

"Oh, come off it!" Clara laughed, throwing a couch pillow at Amy. "I prefer Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_, thank you very much! She was the only Disney princess who read for pleasure!"

"Who said I was Aladdin? I prefer to be Peter Pan!" John said in a wounded voice, closing the apartment room door behind him as he walked inside. Clara whirled around and rolled her eyes. "Yes, but Peter Pan's only a child – oh, wait, never mind. I see the similarities now."

She shrieked playfully as John grabbed a couch pillow and tried to whack her on the arm with it. The room immediately erupted into a full-blown couch pillow fight. Of course, Rory was the first one to push the coffee mugs out of harm's way, but right after that, he, too, got in on the fun.

Clara and Amy were jumping up and down on the couch, holding pillows and occasionally whacking John or Rory whenever they came close. Strangely enough, the group had split up into a girls versus boys pillow fight, and unsurprisingly, the girls appeared to have the upper hand.

"Take – that – Peter – Pan!" Amy said in between throwing pillows.

"What are you, Captain Hook?" John hollered, nimbly ducking the pillows. Sadly, the pillow found their marks on Rory, who was quickly swallowed underneath the large clusters of fabric. He sat up and yelled, "Come on, Amy!"

Amy giggled into her hand and replied, "Aw, Rory, you'll have to be quicker than that!"

"Hm…like _this_?" Rory asked and within a second, he sprang on the couch and enveloped Amy in his arms. Clara grinned and immediately ducked out of the way to give the two some space. Amy let out a loud, cheerful shriek and pretended to struggle out of Rory's arms. "Fine, fine, you win, stupid face." She said teasingly.

"Ha, ha!" Rory laughed triumphantly and the two collapsed into a fit of laughter. Clara smiled at the two of them and quickly looked over her shoulder to see that John had quietly slipped out of the room. Her smile slowly faded off her face and said, "I'll be right back," before just catching John's bedroom door closing.

Clara crept towards the door and opened it slowly. She poked her head into the room and whispered, "John?"

John looked up from his bed with a peculiar, too-wide smile on his face. "Hello, Clara. Are you enjoying yourself? It looked like you were – hm, hm, hm…we've got lots to do today and we still have another hour to wait before we can properly get going and…" His voice trailed off as Clara plopped herself down next to him.

Clara folded her hands over her knees and bumped John's shoulder. "Something's bothering you – I can tell." She said in a surprisingly gentle voice. Under different circumstances, Clara would have actually been rather shocked to hear herself speak so quietly to John, but at the moment, she didn't really care. For some reason, she felt a strange sense of pity towards John – she didn't know how else to explain it.

John smiled. "Oh, Clara…" He gave a weak, halfhearted chuckle. "Never knew you cared – but really, everything is just fine. Perfectly fine, really."

"Don't play that game with me." Clara said stubbornly, bumping John in the shoulder again. "You've been quiet for most of the day. I thought you were looking forward to Amy and Rory coming here. You were right, you know – they certainly _are _nice people."

"Yes, they are…" John had a strange, dreamy expression on his face but he blinked, looking back at Clara. "It's nothing. You know, Amy and Rory are happy together…and all…is…well." He said the last word so softly that Clara didn't even think she heard him properly.

A sad smile was now playing on John's lips and Clara felt her heart give another, unexpected kick. She sighed and flopped back so her back would be lying across the mattress. "Then, what about you? If Amy and Rory are happy together, where are you in this picture?" She asked quietly.

John gave a small shrug. "I am…in the sidelines." He replied.

Clara sat back up and said, "But you don't want to be in the sidelines."

John looked at Clara and slowly shook his head. "Not really."

Clara gave John a sad smile and said slowly, "Amy and Rory are you still your friends, you know…even if you think they've…moved on. You've seen how excited they were to see you…and how excited you were to see them. You have nothing to worry about."

Though John didn't look exactly reassured, he gave Clara a happier attempt at a smile. "Thanks." He said quietly.

Clara shrugged and kicked herself off the bed. "You're welcome." She replied and opened the bedroom door. Clara pointed outside and said, "Now, let's go interrupt those lovebirds – I think we've given them enough time."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, well, I'm working on making my chapters longer. I use Microsoft Word, and to be honest, the chapters always look longer on that program than on FanFiction dot net, which I find VERY annoying. :/ **

**Anyways, please review, give constructive criticism if you have any, but no flames! **


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm back! I'm sorry for not updating this in some time - I was away from home and I didn't have access to my laptop, so it was rough. However, I managed to whip up a chapter for you all - thank you so much for the support!**

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_"__Sometimes, when I say 'I'm okay', I need someone to look into my eyes, hug me tight and say, 'No, you're not.'"_

_Chapter Seven. _

The rest of the day went by quickly. By the time John, Amy, Rory and Clara had returned home, it was nearing midnight and each and every one of them were close to collapsing on their feet. Though, as tired as they were, they all wore identical smiles. John spun the key into his door and swung it open, running a hand through his hair. Amy and Rory both fell into the couch, giggling and laughing over the events of the day.

"You shouldn't have leaned over the ferry railing, John!" Amy said gleefully as John wrung out any excess water from his hair. The man stuck his tongue out at Amy, but ducked into the bathroom to undoubtedly grab a towel. The group had gone to visit the Statue of Liberty that day – of course, on the ferry ride, John had decided that it would be a good idea to lean over the railing. Naturally, he lost his balance and fell in the water. In the end, all was well – he was pulled out.

Clara now sighed and plopped herself down in a chair. Sleep was already threatening to pull her under. She bit back a yawn and managed to yank her phone from her pocket. Clara only barely remembered that she still had a meeting with a writer tomorrow…

_Ten o'clock…alarm…_Clara thought dazedly to herself, her thumb hovering above the phone's glowing screen. However, just as she was about to set an alarm for herself, her phone slipped out of her hands and before it could hit the floor, the young woman fell asleep, not knowing what might possibly be waiting for her in the morning when she was to wake.

xXx

The sunlight filtering into the room through the blindfolds woke Clara up before the loud, ringing sound of a phone. Clara heard people groaning around her in complaint – and for one wild second, she wondered where she was. She sat up with a gasp, only to find that she was not in the chair that she had slept in, but in a sleeping bag. Under normal circumstances, she would have questioned her sudden position change, but at the moment, Clara was more focused on trying to answer her phone. Amy and Rory were slowly sitting up in their bed, rubbing their eyes and moaning for the source of the ringing to stop.

"What on _earth _is that sound?" Clara heard John mumbling and she looked up to see him poking his head out of another sleeping bag, which was only a few feet away from Clara. The brunette cringed and reached blindly for her phone. "Sorry," she whispered, and, kicking herself into a standing position, held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She called softly into her phone. Clara was immediately clamored by a rather angry head editor.

"Where are you? Kalifa has been waiting for ten minutes and she's beginning to get angry!" Idelette Olsen screeched into Clara's ear through the phone. Clara felt as though a block of ice had settled over her heart. She paled – John and Amy and Rory must have noticed, for they were beginning to exchange quizzical, anxious looks. Immediately, Clara looked around the room for her shoes. "Really? I'm so sorry – I didn't set an alarm and –" She started to say but was quickly interrupted by Idelette.

"Stop talking," the editor said sternly. "Just get over here _now!_"

With that, Idelette hung up, leaving a white-faced and shaken Clara Oswald. She swallowed and tucked her phone back in her pocket, getting down on all fours to resume her search for her shoes.

"Er…what's going on?" John asked, standing up and kicking away his sleeping bag. "Is there something wrong?"

"There's a meeting today with one of the writers and I'm late!" Clara said frantically, lifting a sleeping bag. "And I can't find my shoes!"

Amy and Rory slipped out of bed and wordlessly helped Clara with her search. For a few tense, uneasy moments, the group did nothing but look around the apartment for Clara's shoes. At long last, John managed to pull them from underneath a dresser (Clara chose not to question why they were there,) and shoved them towards Clara.

Clara yanked on the shoes and hopping around the apartment, gathered her things and yanked open the door. "Thank you!" She yelled over her shoulder. Amy and Rory and John simply gave her smiles and flashed a thumbs-up.

"Good luck!" They shouted enthusiastically and with another wave over her shoulder, Clara sprinted down the stairs and feverishly hoped that Idelette and Kalifa would show her some mercy.

During the entire taxi ride to the building, Clara kept track of the time – each second that passed by appeared to be a few minutes, and each minute that passed by appeared to be an hour. Of course, this comparison was something of an exaggeration, but in Clara's eyes, time was passing faster than she had ever known. Butterflies flew in her stomach and she had the sudden urge to throw up any contents in her stomach that she might have possibly had, which, seeing that she hadn't eaten anything since last night, couldn't have been much.

This, for some reason, made Clara only feel worse. She fidgeted with her hands and looked out of the window throughout the ride, as if doing these actions would help the car move faster. However, the taxi moved at its usual pace and it wasn't until ten forty-five did Clara finally reach the building.

After (hurriedly) shoving the money to the driver, Clara rushed out of the taxi and sprinted for the doors. She burst into the main lobby, where Idelette ran in, looking just as frazzled as Clara herself. The head editor's usual, bouncy, curly hair was in nothing but an untangled, frizzy mess, which Clara noted with a wince. Idelette's face was pinked as well, which only meant that either things have gone badly during the wait for Clara's arrival, or she was just running around.

Either way, Clara knew that she would have an earful of talking from Idelette as soon as her meeting with Kalifa was over with.

"Where were you?" The head editor hissed, grabbing Clara's shoulders. "You'll be lucky if Kalifa still wants to work with you – she's not in a good mood today so I suggest you _apologize_."

Clara cringed and with a shove from Idelette, fell into the meeting room.

Kalifa Whinford was staring sternly at Clara from her half-moon glasses as she sat herself down. There was a small, awkward silence between the two women. Clara slowly looked up at Kalifa – she was _much _older than she was, with a bob of greying hair and wrinkles lining her face, though Clara doubted that Kalifa was one of those 'nice, sweet, motherly' types of women. Not to mention that the simple appearance of Kalifa made Clara feel uncomfortable – just the way the older woman _held _herself made Clara feel lower in position somehow, which was ridiculous, seeing that _she _was the one editing _her _story and cropping out _her _mistakes. At this, Clara was temporarily consoled.

"You're late." Kalifa said flatly, clasping her hands together and in the process, destroying the last shred of comfortableness that Clara had. It struck Clara odd how long Kalifa's fingers were. For a minute, she contemplated on them and didn't respond until the woman cleared her throat. Blushing, Clara replied quietly, "Apologies – I didn't set my alarm and I was distracted earlier that day."

"Dear me," Kalifa responded sarcastically. She gazed into Clara's eyes and the brunette shifted uncomfortably in her chair – she had the odd feeling that the older woman was going to give her a hard time from this moment on. While certain writers that Clara has worked with were kind and understanding, this one was simply…how to put it – patronizing? Supercilious?

"And _how_, I wonder, am I supposed to be able to publish _any _works if my editor is constantly showing up _late_?" Kalifa continued. Her words felt like a sharp slap to Clara's face. Her cheeks burned and she stammered out another apology, though she was thinking, _I've only been late once – and this is my first meeting with you! Besides, I would like _you _to try to run through pages of God-awful manuscripts all day! _

Clara never _did _like to hide her feelings. However, she decided to keep those words safely tucked into her head – it would be smarter to not poke the beast, after all, even if it deserved it. She only needed to keep calm for the rest of the meeting and _hope _that Kalifa wouldn't make her feel lower than she already was.

Kalifa placed a hand on the table, tapping her fingers along the surface in a crisp, non-nonsense matter. "I've been reading over the drafts of the manuscript you sent me." She said slowly and placed a manila folder on the table. Kalifa slowly pulled out the many papers from the folder and spread them out before Clara. "And there were certain things that I simply do not agree with – tell me, why would you cut out these parts?" She tapped on one of the papers, which, sure enough, had a large, red _X _scribbled across the page.

Clara tried to reply in the same sharp, official-sounding tone that Kalifa had given her in the past few minutes. She picked up the papers and read aloud from the manuscript –

_"__The fact remains that, much to the other girls' displeasures, Hazel Gordon was perfect in everything she does. She was always getting the top grades in her class, always being the most athletic in physical education, was always liked by the proper boys, and et cetera. It wasn't her fault, really – she couldn't help the fact that she was born with certain gifts." _

"Yes, I know what the manuscript says," Kalifa said in a rather nasty manner. "Thank you _very _much for proving your literacy skills – what I would like to know is _why _you would think it'd be a good idea to delete that little passage."

Clara puffed out a small sigh and gently placed the papers back on the table. "The reason why I thought it was a good idea to take out that passage is because already, from that very first page, this _Hazel Gordon _sounds a bit _too _perfect, don't you think?"

At Kalifa's sharp, unwavering gaze, Clara continued hurriedly, "It's all fine if you would prefer her to be perfect, but I would think that certain audiences might not find a book that revolves around a robot interesting. It's fairly obvious that _Hazel Gordon_ is a human being like the rest of us – of course, it's possible for people with such abilities such as her to be existent in this world, but people like to read about things they could _relate _to. They don't want to read stories about people who are perfect and pretty and all that – they want to read about certain flaws that the character has and perhaps build up on that interest."

Clara sucked in a breath after her small rant and sat back, waiting for whatever response Kalifa would come up with. The older woman crossed her arms and stared steadily at Clara. After a few silent, tense moments, she asked coolly, "And you would know what people would like to read, would you? Tell me, Miss Oswald – have _you _ever written a story?"

Clara felt her cheeks burn – well, she _was _writing something, though it was considerably private. She wasn't even sure if it was any good – the idea, that is. She searched her mind desperately for an answer – she didn't want to give Kalifa the satisfaction of being in the right if Clara replied, "no," but she didn't really want to tell Kalifa that she _was _writing a novel – that would be humiliating. Maybe Clara could mention that she took a few writing _classes_ that helped her write stories? It wouldn't be a total _yes_, but it wouldn't be a total _no_, either.

That sounded safe enough. Clara started to reply, "Actually, I – "

"Thought not," Kalifa dismissed Clara's words with a wave of her hand. Clara blinked taken a back, though she didn't bother arguing. She cleared her throat awkwardly and clasped her hands in front of herself. "As an editor, Ms. Whinford, I've seen several stories – and none of those stories with such perfect figures that I've read aren't always well-liked."

Kalifa held her nose in the air and said in a pompous tone, "You can hardly say that on the account for every single reader out there."

"Perhaps not," Clara replied, keeping her voice steady, though a few icy tones were beginning to kick in. She struggled to keep her composure as she went on to say, "But I would think that making people relate to your story would be a much easier and more successful path, don't you think?"

Kalifa looked up and down Clara, distaste re-writing itself all over her face. "Your ideas might be a bit too modern, Miss Oswald." She said coolly.

Clara couldn't help herself. "And your ideas might be a bit too traditional, Ms. Whinford. Tell me, did people from your time like to read stories about Miss Perfect running around a school?" She asked snappishly, dropping her polite act. Kalifa glowered at Clara, though she did not waver from her stance.

Clara picked up the papers again and started to rattle off, "Your sentence structure is poor – usage of description is lacking, not to mention that your characters are all bland and predictable." She jabbed a finger at the papers, feeling her indignation take the better of herself. "You do not show any signs of proper character development, and all of the other characters you write about are sloppy. There's practically nothing in your other characters – all of them appear to simply bow down before this _Hazel Gordon_. Not to mention that _Hazel Gordon _doesn't seem to show _any _signs of change throughout the entire ten chapters that you have sent me."

She threw down the papers and glared at Kalifa who, like Clara, did not show any signs of backing away. "I'm trying to _advise you_, and if you think that pouring pompous, arrogant words that only one child in the entire universe can be truly perfect to small children, you can take your story somewhere else because _I _am _not _going to handle a writer who thinks she can hold herself like that!" Clara finished breathlessly.

The meeting room door suddenly slid open and a familiar, sharp voice barked, "Clara! May I speak to you?"

Holding her glare with Kalifa, Clara backed away and walked towards the door. The second she had reached it, Idelette grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room.

"I just heard you – Kalifa Whinford is _not _one to be fooled around with, Clara – you know that as well as any other editor in this business." Idelette scolded indignantly. "What were you thinking? Do you _want _to get into trouble?"

"She was being rude!" Clara argued. "If she thinks that she can – "

"Clara, _stop_." Idelette whispered, holding up her hands. "This isn't about _you_ – this is about the editing business. Don't bother sharing any of your personal opinions on Kalifa's behavior, will you? From now on, just edit any mistakes that she has in writing, not on the actual storyline or any of her characters. I _know _it'll be hard to do," she added as Clara opened her mouth to protest, "but just do as I say! The second Ms. Whinford's so-called _story _is published; she'll be out of her hair."

"A-ha! So, you admit it – Ms. Whinford's writing is _absolutely _ridiculous! Why do I have to work with her? Why do _we _have to work with her?" Clara asked pleadingly. "It's awful!"

Idelette sucked in a long breath, signaling Clara that she was growing weary and tired of this conversation. Clara pretended not to notice Idelette's actions. "Clara, Ms. Whinford's writing is fine – the storyline _may _be a bit unusual, but it doesn't matter. We're just correcting any possible flaws in her story. _Don't_," she warned hastily as Clara re-opened her mouth to make a snarky comment about Kalifa's story.

"Calm down – I know this bothers you, but for once, just do as your told!" Idelette finished roughly and pushed Clara back into the meeting room. With a sigh, Clara looked round the room and faced the wretched Ms. Whinford, who was giving her a smug smile, as if she knew that she had won today's battle.

Clara bit down on her lip and managed to sit down at the table. "Well," she said, not bothering to look up at Kalifa. She couldn't bring herself to fake any politeness towards the horrid woman. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"

xXx

"There she is!" John said enthusiastically as Clara trudged up the stairs to her apartment door. She heard Amy and Rory give a loud, happy cheer, though Clara didn't bother acknowledging it. She sullenly dug a hand through her pockets, searching for her keys. After pushing aside a few balls of lint and quarters, Clara wrapped her fingers around her room key and held it up so she could unlock the door.

John, Amy and Rory's smiles slowly faded off their faces at Clara's silent, brooding behavior. "Did something happen?" John asked. "Actually, don't answer that – something _did _happen and you're just not telling me because you don't want to get into any –"

He was quickly interrupted by a smack on the arm from Amy. The redhead turned to Clara and asked, "Are you alright? You look…tired."

Clara looked up and lifted her shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. "I'm fine," she replied easily. _At least, as fine as an editor with ninety-nine problems and Kalifa Whinford being most of them. _However, she decided not to say those words out loud. Clara turned the key in the lock and swung open her door. "Er…you three have fun today. I've got some work to do." She said with a brave smile, which she only _hoped _looked sincere to the trio.

If Amy and Rory and John were going to say something, Clara didn't notice. Before any of them could intervene, she closed the door and immediately flopped down at her desk. She plugged her phone in her charger, swung her purse down to the floor, shrugged off her jacket, and flipped open her laptop all within a few seconds.

Clara needed a distraction. She needed to _vent _or _write something _for today, just to get the exhausting, less-than-fun meeting out of her system.

Or something like that.

Clara opened up her writing tools on her laptop and for the first few minutes, she didn't do much except stare at the blinking dash on the screen. Her eyes started to glaze over until finally, she lifted her fingers over the keyboard and started to type down every single thought that came to her head.

At the end of Clara's little writing spree, she had whipped up a small poem of a sort – of course, she wasn't much of a poet, but as she looked it over, she thought it wasn't too bad. At least, it described the very things that Clara was feeling at the moment –

_Anger tastes bitter in my mouth._

_Steaming, hot smoke clouds my vision. _

_Rough, sharp surfaces pierce my skin. _

_And it takes everything in me not to shout. _

Fine, in Clara's opinion, it was rather depressing, but she wasn't in a good mood and she was a writer – writers were supposed to write out whatever they wished in times such as these. She wasn't even quite sure _why _she was so worked up over Kalifa Whinford. Maybe it was the way she held herself – maybe it was the way she looked down on Clara – maybe it was the way she wrote (Clara could just _hear _Kalifa through her words. Ugh.) – or maybe Clara was just annoyed that Kalifa had enough confidence to try and _publish _something, even if that _thing _was complete and utter rubbish.

Clara ran a hand through her hair and considered calling Martha – she could use with some rambling and ranting at the moment, but quickly pushed that thought aside. Martha would be sleeping now and she _definitely _wouldn't pick up at this time, even if she wanted to.

With a sigh, Clara swung her chair around and started to skim through her phone for a proper playlist to listen to – she might as well get back to work and restart the editing on Kalifa Whinford's awful story.

It didn't take too long for Clara to fall asleep on her laptop. She hadn't slept much last night, and after an hour, she had her face tucked into her arms and was falling into the blissful world of dreams. Clara slept soundly on her desk until about six o'clock in the evening, when a loud, abrupt knocking on the door sounded through the apartment room.

At first, Clara didn't mind it – one of her songs from her phone had drifted into her dream world, and she figured that the knocking was just a part of the song. However, just as her subconscious brain finished reasoning with that concept, the knocking grew louder and more rapid.

Finally, a single thought formed in Clara's head – _I know that knock. _

Sighing and groaning at the same time, Clara lifted her head from her arms and looked up with bleary eyes. "Who is it?" She called, though her voice wasn't heard over the din of the knocking. Grumbling angrily under her breath, Clara swung herself around the desk and plodded to the door, feeling very much like a clumsy giant.

She opened the door with a yawn, only to come face-to-face with John Smith.

"You're awake!" John said, beaming, and was replied with the door slamming to his face. "Oh, come on, now!" He said crossly, knocking the door frantically as Clara slid to the ground tiredly. She placed her hands over her ears, though it didn't quite snuff out the knocks as well as she thought it would.

"Don't shut me out again!" John said. "We've been through some – just…give me a minute, will you?"

As much as Clara would like to remain in a curled up ball of self-pity, she found some strength to open the door. At least she could find some comfort in yelling at John. She opened the door again, mouth open to scream and protest and argue, but it quickly closed. If Clara wasn't going to close the door, she would have gotten a mouthful of fabric, for John had automatically wrapped his arms around Clara's middle.

At first, Clara didn't say anything. All of her angry words were drowned into her throat and they faded into a stunned silence. She blinked rapidly, trying to find a small shred of herself to push John off or tell John to move or –

Instead, Clara surprised herself by pressing her forehead against John's shoulder. She made herself limp in his arms and for a few minutes, she didn't speak. Neither did John, for once, though his silence wasn't the same silence that had bothered Clara just the other day. No, unlike that silence, this kind of quiet held some sort of comfort and peace in it.

"Why are you doing this?" Clara finally whispered.

"Something's wrong." John replied, giving Clara's arm a squeeze. "And you know, since I'm your friend, I figured you'd might want someone to help you or something of the sort."

Unexpected, relieved tears sprang into Clara's eyes, though she willed herself to keep them from falling. She managed a small smile and sighed, pulling herself away from John. "Well, thank you." She said quietly. With a small laugh, Clara pressed her hands to her face. "I had a meeting today."

"Oh, you mean the one you told me about in the airport?" John asked.

Clara nodded unhappily. "The very one." She replied and sighed again. "It didn't go so well."

John stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled. "Well, then, Clara Oswald," he said in a mockingly formal voice. He bowed his head and said, "Why don't we talk about this not-so-good meeting? I have _all _ears open – well, only two ears open, but that's the maximum amount of ears –"

Clara laughed, shaking her head. "Fine," she replied and tugged John into the apartment room. Giving Clara a wide, puppy-like smile, John immediately rushed to the couch and plopped himself down in one of the cushions. "Tell – me – everything." He said sincerely. "Don't leave out any details."

And so, Clara did just as John asked. She spilled out every single bit of annoyance that she had held inside of her from the very second she walked into the meeting room. Clara exaggerated Kalifa Whinford's arrogant, loud, pompous voice and pointed out every single flaw that irked Clara in Kalifa's story. Of course, now that Clara thought about it, she figured that gossiping about Kalifa Whinford wasn't quite the most admirable thing to do, but once she had finished her rant, she felt much better.

She sat down next to John and sighed. She turned to him and asked, "Do you still have your sanity?"

John flashed a thumbs-up and replied simply, "Bowties are cool."

Clara rolled her eyes, though a smile was beginning to show on her face. "I'll take that as a yes." She said and folded her hands on her lap. She turned to look at John and asked, "Where's Amy and Rory?"

"They had to do…something. On a date night or something like that." John replied, and though his tone was light, Clara couldn't help but to wonder if John still didn't like the concept that his two best friends were together. Before Clara could offer any other words, though, John popped out of his seat and held out his arm.

"Which is _why _you and I are going out." He said promptly. At Clara's rising eyebrow, he waved his other hand carelessly. "Not like _that _– you _really _need to stop making assumptions. It's obvious we could both use with some happy time – come on! The night is ours – again!"

Clara couldn't help but to grin. She took John's hand and was immediately pulled up to her feet. Laughing, the two ran out of the apartment door and sprinted into the night.

* * *

**A/N: The John-falling-off-the-ferry idea goes to MusicKeeper. I didn't really elaborate on it, buuuut...*cringes* **

**And now, I shall make this note super short because I'll have to get going soon...(Seriously - it's summer and I still feel busier than ever, which is so annoying. -.-) As you can see, I made an effort to make this chapter a bit longer because well...I'm tired of skimming through the chapter and feeling like it isn't as long as it should be. :/ **

**Please leave a review - I would love to hear what you guys have to say about this chapter. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames are not allowed! **


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm back with a new chapter! Yes! *pumps fist* It took another marathon of ****_Doctor Who _****episodes with Clara in them, but I finally got my Whoufleé feels pumping up again and...akshfdfdf I can't. I really can't. Gah. Must. Write. All. The. Whoufleé. Stuff. I remember why I love the ship so much. *hugs the Whoufleé ship* YAAAY! **

**Anyways. *straightens myself and clears throat* **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_"One night. That's all you need to change everything." _

_Chapter Eight. _

The last colors of the evening were beginning to fade into the darkness of the night when John and Clara walked into a coffee shop. Streetlights were flickering on, giving the entire place a rather mysterious, pretty glow. Clara smiled, sitting herself down at a stool which was placed just by the window. It felt nice; to 're-claim' (as John put it,) the night. Clara suspected that there wasn't going to be anything _too _extravagant tonight, but she certainly liked the idea of doing this 're-claiming' with John. Besides, he was fun to hang around, even _if _he had a few annoying, meddlesome qualities. Clara even considered him to be a friend. The soft _thunks _of two objects being placed on the countertop quickly snapped Clara out of her thoughts.

Clara turned around to see John pushing a mug towards her. He plopped himself down in the stool next to her and picked up his own cup. "Hot chocolate," he said as Clara looked into the mug's contents. "I don't think coffee would be a good idea right now – but this place serves good coco."

Clara took a single sip and smiled. "It does," she agreed, placing her mug back down on the countertop. She folded her hands together and turned to John. "What now?" She asked. "Is this what we're going to be doing tonight? Contemplate on how good our hot chocolate is?"

John grinned and pulled out a large bag of glittering, golden-wrapped objects. "I wish we could," he said, it on the countertop and clasping his hands together. "But I have different plans."

"Oh?" Clara asked lightly. John nodded enthusiastically.

"Clara Oswald, are you ready for a challenge?" He asked in an exaggerated, serious tone. Clara let out a small laugh and took another sip from her hot chocolate. "What kind of challenge are we talking about here?"

"Inside of this bag are over a hundred caramels," John said, pointing at the large bag. Clara raised an eyebrow, but the young man kept going on. "And while you might think caramels are delicious, sweet candies to chew on, we all know it _hurts_ to work on them."

Clara shrugged and nodded in agreement, still wondering what exactly John was getting at. He flashed a smile at Clara and said, "So…I thought that we would have to do a little face-off – name something from a certain, chosen topic and if one of us stutters or stammers or fails to come up with an answer on time, we have to stick a caramel in our mouth until finally, our jaws will be too sore to do anything else."

"Sounds like a dentist's nightmare," Clara stated matter-of-factly, clasping her hands together. She smiled at John. "But fine, let's do it – for the record, though, I'm going to beat you."

"Don't be so sure!" John scoffed, ripping open the bag of caramels. "I've got twenty-seven brains' worth of trivia knowledge up in here!"

"_Twenty-seven_?" Clara asked incredulously, adjusting her position on her stool. John paused. "Slight exaggeration." He muttered in a somewhat sheepish tone. Clara grinned and swallowing down another bit of hot chocolate, said, "I thought so." She leaned closer to the countertop. "Well? Shall we start? I'll choose the topic – country singers."

"Country singers? Really? That's awfully boring." John said, obviously disappointed. However, he shrugged and quickly said, "Taylor Swift."

"Carrie Underwood."

"Dolly Parton."

"Johnny Cash."

"Tim McGraw."

"Patsy Cline."

"Hank Williams."

Clara struggled to find another country singer's name. She sighed and placed her hands over her face, groaning in defeat. John let out a loud, excited laugh and placed a caramel in front of Clara. "Tough luck!" He crowed joyously. Clara looked up at the young man and, giving him a dark glare, popped the candy in her mouth. It tasted better than Clara had thought – it _was _sweet, though it seemed intent on gluing to her teeth and therefore, harder to swallow down.

"I got the extra-sticky ones," John said, delighted at Clara's expression whilst chewing on the caramel. She pushed the candy to the side and gave John a rather vehement glare. "Well, thank _you_," she said, swallowing down the rest of the sticky caramel. "Next topic?"

John grinned, bringing his mug to his lips. "Flowers," he said lightly, taking a few sips from his drink. Clara slapped her hands together. "You're on," she said enthusiastically. "Lily."

"Rose."

"Daisy."

"Petunia."

"Jasmine."

"Ehm…" John's voice trailed off and Clara grinned, pushing a caramel towards John. "Your turn," she said sweetly. John sighed. "That's not fair! My brain blanked!" He whined childishly, though he unwrapped the candy and threw it into his mouth. He chewed on it for a few seconds, wearing the same, frustrated expression that Clara figured was on her own face just a few minutes ago.

And so, the rest of the hour was spent quickly with this little game until the owner of the coffee shop told them that closing time was almost upon them. Finishing their hot chocolates, Clara and John quickly bid the coffee shop owner a goodnight and sped along to the apartment building, still continuing their game.

To Clara's surprise and relief, Rory and Amy had not yet returned to the building when John opened his apartment door. The two settled down on the carpeted floor and shot their answers at each other, sometimes giggling and rolling around the ground at one another's faces and reactions to not answering on time. (Clara realized that John had the most adorable, frustrated expression ever, which looked something like a baby wailing with puppy dog eyes…)

Clara and John grew more and more excited from the caramels as each hour passed. By the time the clock announced it was midnight, Clara and John were curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand to calm their nerves. The two had agreed to spend the rest of the night simply talking and laughing over stories that were exchanged.

"And…and then, Amy gave me yogurt and I _spat it out _on her kitchen floor." John laughed, shaking his head. "She was _so annoyed_…and then she gave me beans and I spat that out in the sink…and the rest of the afternoon was spent running around the house, looking for something to eat and annoying Amy's aunt through it all."

Clara giggled – the mere idea of a little, five years old John Smith being a ruckus even at such a young age was a bit too much for her. She folded her legs underneath herself and closed her eyes. She was growing tired, and the wine was beginning to get to her. Of course, Clara wasn't drunk – she didn't do drunk, but instead, she was simply finding it hard to keep her eyes open…and she was so, so warm next to John and it was so, so dark outside…and the apartment room felt cozy and snug.

"Oi, are you falling asleep on me?" John asked, though his voice was surprisingly lower than what Clara was accustomed to. She opened her eyes and looked up at John. She managed a small nod, wrapping her arms around her knees. John smiled and slung his arm over Clara's shoulder, pulling her into himself. Surprisingly, Clara didn't bother protesting. She was too tired. She rested her head on John's shoulder and fell asleep to the sound of John's heart beating in his chest.

xXx

Clara didn't wake up right away. She felt comfortable just the way she was. Her entire body was warm and happy and she didn't want to leave this vision just yet. Clara smiled to herself and curled deeper into the blankets of her bed, but instead of feeling the warm fabric, she felt a pair of arms tightening around her.

_Wait, what? _

Clara blinked her eyes open, still dazed with sleep, and came face-to-face to see John's face. His eyes were closed, much to Clara's relief, and he, too, looked somewhat lost in a place far, far away from here. A soft sigh escaped John's lips and he buried his head into a couch pillow.

At once, a hundred memories came rushing back to Clara – she was with John last night. The two were playing that silly caramel game…they were in the coffee shop…and then they came here…had wine, fell asleep…on the couch. In John's apartment room.

_Damn_, this was the _second _time Clara spent the night at John's. She wasn't quite sure whether to accept that as a good or bad thing. However, she took a few moments to look around her surroundings – she was still on the couch, though from the way her body was positioned, Clara assumed that she had been sleeping next to John. Right now, in fact, she was still curled up next to John.

She let out a small gasp and sat up. John stirred in his sleep, mumbling a few incoherent words and scrubbing a hand across his eyes. The door to John's bedroom swung open to reveal Amy and a bed-headed Rory, which Clara might have found amusing, except she was a bit too surprised over her situation with John to even care at the moment.

"Well, look who's awake!" Amy said cheerfully, walking into the room. She plopped herself down in front of the couch and grinned at Clara. "How was your night?" She asked. "Rory and I walked in to see you two looking so sweet and nice together that we couldn't bring ourselves to wake either of you."

Clara brought her hands to her face. "You should have," she muttered. "I wouldn't have minded – and for the record, John and I aren't _a couple!_ We had a bit of wine, yes, and we both fell asleep. That was all."

Amy rolled her eyes. "No need to get all defensive and huffy about it," she said lightly. "With _that _attitude, people won't hesitate to label you two as a couple – didn't you ever hear that one of the most common ways to show attraction is to repel against it?"

Clara sighed, not bothering to come up with a retort. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, anyways. Next to her, John brought his hand away from his eyes, which were blinking open in the same, dazed and confused expression that Clara had. He propped himself up on an elbow and slowly turned his head around at the room.

Clara cleared her throat and John looked down. He blinked, looking down at his arm, which was still wrapped around Clara's torso, and quickly pulled away, a steady flush rising to his cheeks. Clara couldn't blame him. She felt rather warm herself, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been sleeping just a few minutes ago.

"Good morning!" John said instead, rolling into a sitting position. "And when did you two come back?"

"About one in the morning." Rory replied, finally speaking up from the doorway. "It was quite a night – there was some trouble coming back, though, and the taxi took a bit longer to bring us here." He looked over at John and Clara thoughtfully, as though he, like Amy, was beginning to speculate something between them. However, unlike Amy, he didn't say any of his thoughts aloud. Rory simply ended his statement with a small, awkward shrug.

Clara picked at a few, invisible strings from her shirt and stood up. "I suppose I'll have to get going now," she said to Amy and Rory, desperate not to look at John. How could she? Of course, nothing really happened between the two, but looking at John after being…_caught _(even if they technically weren't "caught",) felt wrong and awkward and odd.

"Are you sure? You can have breakfast here, if you'd like." Amy said with a frown. Clara lifted her shoulders into a small bob of a shrug. "I have some other things to tend to," she murmured. "But thank you for the offer." Giving Amy and Rory another halfhearted smile, Clara walked for the door. Just as Clara placed a hand over the doorknob, she felt someone hurrying behind her.

"Leaving so soon?" John asked in Clara's ear, his breath tickling her skin. She froze and looked up at John, who was staring at her with a disappointed expression on his face. "Really, staying for a few more hours wouldn't be too much trouble for any of us."

"I've got some work to do. Didn't do much of an editing job yesterday." Clara mumbled under her breath, beginning to turn the doorknob, though John grabbed Clara's wrist from turning it any farther. She sucked in a quick breath and turned to John. "What are you doing? Let go," she said in a stern, quiet voice.

"Does this have anything to do with last night?" John asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Clara cast her eyes to the ground and pulled away from John's hand. "I need to get going." She simply said and before John could object any further, she pushed open the door and hurried out.

xXx

"…and now, I have no idea what to do or say when I see John again." Clara finished her story with a slightly exasperated and hysterical note. Martha stared at Clara from the laptop screen, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. They had grown considerably larger during the entire time Clara had spilled each and every detail about the events from last night. There was a small silence from Clara's friend until finally, she asked, "And you're absolutely sure that's all you two did?"

"I'm pretty sure, yes." Clara replied, bringing her face into her hands. Even now, her cheeks were burning from re-counting the hours she had spent in John's arms. And the stupidest thing about it all was that she had actually felt _comfortable. _Clara didn't even _think _about John that way. Yes, maybe John had a nice smile and _maybe _he had an adorable, endearing talent in keeping Clara busy, but besides that, she couldn't feel or see anything else about him that really caught her eye. He'd be a nice friend – Clara _always _labeled him as a friend. So, was it alright for her to be happy with him for that one night and still think of him as a friend?

Oh, _God _– did John think that Clara liked him now?

Clara's heart sank at the thought. She didn't really want to deal with a secret admirer at the moment, thank you very much.

Martha bit down on her lip and said, "Well, if that's all you two did, it can't be _that _bad, right? I mean, you might want to clear everything up with Amy and Rory and John, but besides that, I think you all can return to normal. Stuff like this happens to the best of us."

Clara sighed and shrugged. "Maybe, yes," she said reluctantly, "but you weren't there – the thing is, I felt _comfortable _and _alright _with the idea being with John last night. And that scares me a little."

Martha lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "But you were drinking wine, weren't you?" She asked slowly. Clara nodded in response. Martha shrugged. "Then, it should be just fine, Clara – you weren't yourself. Alcohol makes you think and feel certain things that aren't there." She said matter-of-factly. "So, what you experienced is completely normal."

Clara felt relief slowly starting to pour into her veins. Martha's explanation sounded reasonable enough – Clara obviously didn't have any _real _feelings for John. It was all the drink's fault. She made herself a mental note to not ever drink wine with any other man again.

"Sounds fine," Clara said, all worry draining away. She drummed her fingers against the desk and grinned at Martha. "So…how is everything back in England?"

The conversation quickly took a turn to Martha's medical studies and the weather and whether or not the writers and producers of _Merlin _were going to bring the show back. Overall, tears were shed, laughs were uttered and jokes were traded and in the end, Clara was feeling much better than she had in the morning.

Once ending the Skype session, Clara settled back in her seat and pulled out a few papers from Kalifa Whinford's files. She held the manuscript out at a length and puffed out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, _Hazel Gordon_," Clara muttered under her breath, "I'll have to tackle you now."

And so, Clara went straight to work, not bothering to look up or away from her laptop screen unless it was to answer a few messages from the Idelette or some other writers who wanted to arrange a meeting. Thankfully, these writers were more accepting and kinder than Kalifa and Clara managed to set all of those meetings for next week.

In other words, Clara felt as though she was on a roll. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and though she was completely useless when it came to computer technology, Clara felt like something of a genius hacker or some other computer-specialist at the time. Clara even managed to edit an entire three chapters worth of annoying, IQ-deducing dialogue from _Hazel Gordon _and her admirers.

Pushing herself back in her seat, Clara let out a satisfied, weak cheer and pushed Kalifa Whinford's saved documents away from her laptop screen. "It's been a while since I typed up some words of my own story," she mused aloud, pulling up her documents. The silence that followed shortly after was rather comforting for Clara – again, just like it's always been; it was just her with her words.

Clara still wasn't quite sure what she was trying to write in her story – it was either about a rather bland, boring girl who was locked up in her room by an overprotective father, or about a heroine who was trying to escape the clutches of a man who called himself her father. Clara couldn't make up her mind on what story-line she wanted to pursue. In the end, she decided to ignore the beginning of the story and write up some other scenes instead. That always helped her writing abilities when she was stuck.

Slowly, the scene Clara was writing came to life in her mind. A young boy kept throwing rocks at the girl's window in the story – Clara wasn't quite sure whether this scene was going to be placed in the middle of the story or the beginning, but either way, it was interesting. According to the girl in the story, she couldn't tell if the boy was throwing rocks to harm her or simply catch her attention.

It was quite fun, experimenting with the girl's emotions in watching the young boy. Was she scared? Nervous? Angry? Excited? There were so many things a young girl could feel when seeing such actions.

However, once re-reading the passage, Clara shook her head. It sounded too much like a Rapunzel story – much too sappy, too simple, and too plain. That story wouldn't catch the sight of _anyone_. With a disappointed sigh, Clara highlighted the passage and stared down at the _delete_ button. However, just as she was about to tap it, a few loud knocks echoed around the room.

Clara pushed herself away from her desk and headed to the door. Once swinging it open, she took one look at John, who was wearing a rather ugly clown mask, and with a small shriek of surprise, slammed the door on his poor hand.

"Ouch!" John shouted from behind the door, his voice only slightly muffled by the mask. Clara's eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth, opening the door again. John was sliding down the wall, holding his hand and wincing in the pain of it all. Clara dropped to her knees, and with one of her feet, held her apartment door open so it wouldn't close on them.

"What were you doing?" Clara asked, looking at John's hand and wincing at how stiff and red it looked. "Why were you wearing that mask? You scared the living daylights out of me!"

John forced a smile, though it quickly twisted into a grimace. "I was trying to make you laugh," he said. "Clearly, you don't know a joke when you see one."

"Oh, yes, of course – next time someone goes to my door wearing a creepy mask again, I'll _definitely _invite him in." Clara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though it quickly faded away as she looked at the hand again. She bit down on her lip and gently placed her own, not-based-up hand over John's, though he cringed and immediately pulled away.

"That bad?" Clara asked uneasily. John nodded and let out a low, long exhale of breath. Clara sighed and stood up. "Come on; let me get you some ice for that." She said, gesturing inside the apartment room. Clara tugged at John's good hand and immediately dragged him inside before he could say anything else.

The second they were inside, Clara was ducking into the small kitchenette and instructing John to sit down on the couch. She dug around the fridge and after a few minutes of struggling with the icebox on one of the shelves in it, Clara managed to break apart a few fairly large ice-cubes and wrap them up in a towel. She kicked the fridge door shut and walked back out to the couch, where, thankfully, John was sitting.

"Here," Clara murmured, sticking the little ice-pack out to John. He took it with a small smile and placed it over his hand gingerly. Clara carefully sat herself down next to John, (so the ice-pack wouldn't slide out of the way,) and planted her hands on her lap. "What were you doing, anyways?" She asked. "Besides trying to make me laugh, I mean."

"And failing." Clara added halfheartedly after a second of silence. To her credit and relief, John let out a small laugh. He shifted the ice-pack over his hand and replied, "You left so quickly this morning that I thought I had done something wrong – I wanted to talk to you."

Clara chewed on the insides of her cheek uncomfortably as John turned to look at her, a serious expression writing itself on his face. "So, _did _I do something wrong?" He asked earnestly. "Because if I did, please tell me. I _don't _want to receive another cold shoulder from you."

Clara blinked. "Cold shoulder?" She asked incredulously. "What cold shoulder?"

"Oh, don't say that – you know what I mean! You sometimes get all huffy and mean and isolate and…it's quite troubling sometimes." John muttered. Clara felt an annoyed, angry flush crawl up to her cheeks and shot back, "Well, I'm _sorry _if it's so _troubling_, but that's just how I like to deal with people who annoy _me_."

John's (ridiculously thin) eyebrows shot to his hairline in surprise. "So, I _have _done something wrong?" He asked tentatively.

"No!" Clara replied, though her voice hadn't lost its indignant tone.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?" John asked dubiously.

"I don't know! I just – _gah_." Clara threw her hands up in the air, accidentally knocking over John's ice-pack in the process. _Oops_. She sighed and leaned down, scooping up the ice-pack and placing it slowly over John's hand. "Sorry, _you _didn't do anything wrong last night," she started, though John's eyebrows jumped again.

"I _knew _it had something to do with last night!" He cried, crossing his legs. Clara sighed and placed her hands over her face in exasperation. She heard John suck in a breath and mumble apologetically, "Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted – go on."

Clara allowed her hands to slide off and she replied, "I was just a bit funny and addled after drinking wine. I wasn't _that _drunk, don't worry, but um…it put us in that position."

"'In that position'?" John asked, frowning. "What do you mean, 'in that position'?"

Clara waved her hands around again. "You know, the entire…" She weakly tried to imitate their positions before, which only made the situation look more awkward than it already was.

"Oh." John mumbled quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah. That's what you meant. I see."

Clara nodded. "Um…so, what I meant to say is that…I'm sorry for acting the way I did." She paused. "And I'm sorry for slamming the door on your hand. Is it any better, by the way?"

John shrugged. "I think so, yeah," he replied. "And just so you know, I accept your apology – it's all fine."

Clara smiled, relieved and stood up. "That's great," she said with a smile and stuck out a hand. "So…er…friends?" She asked halfheartedly. At John's bemused look, she rolled her eyes. "I won't feel completely comfortable until you shake on it." Clara explained.

John grinned and grasped Clara's hand with his good hand. He shook it gently and replied, "I…yeah, we're just friends."

Clara let go of John's hand and sat herself down on the couch again. "Right," she said, suddenly feeling more cheerful than she had for the entire day. "Um…what now?"

* * *

**A/N: From now on, I'm going to try and make each and every chapter at least 4,000 words. It's hard, though - I'm used to writing chapters with a minimum of 2,000 words...but after realizing that those chapters look _much _shorter on the actual FanFiction page, I've decided to increase the length. It may still look short, but...*cringes and smiles* I'm trying! **

**As always, review! I would love to hear what you guys are thinking of the progression in Clara and John's relationship - constructive criticism is always allowed, but flames are not!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I love my brothers - they were able to get the Wifi back in the house for me to post this chapter on my laptop, rather my phone, which was what I had to do yesterday. O.o**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_"One of the saddest things that can happen is when one falls in love while the other wants nothing more than friendship." _

_Chapter Nine. _

For the next hour, Clara sat across John and typed up the rest of the first chapter of her so-called 'novel' while he chatted on about anything and everything – Clara didn't always respond, and she was glad to notice that John didn't appear to mind it that much. In fact, he seemed to welcome the fact that Clara was busy (for once). It was only after another hour did John finally ask, "What are you writing now?"

Clara looked up, surprised. After a few, uneasy beats of silence, Clara managed to say, "Just a little something."

"For editing? What are you editing? Are you still editing that awful Kalifa Whinford's story?" John asked, making his way to Clara's seat. She quickly held her laptop in the air so he wouldn't see the screen. "No," she replied quickly. "It's not her story."

John narrowed his eyes and craned his neck, trying to make sense out of the tiny words. "I don't see any notes from other writers – so what are you working on?" In a flash, he placed a strong arm over Clara's hand, forcing her to lower the laptop at eye-level. Clara groaned in defeat and flopped back in her seat as John's eyes slowly explored the screen.

There was a small silence and then –

"Is this _your _writing?"

Clara simply moaned in response, digging her face in a couch cushion. She could practically hear the smile in John's face as he said, "It is! It _is!_ I was right! Gosh, I need to read the rest of this!" Clara lifted her head from the cushion and started to flap her hand in John's direction. "That's _private_!" She protested, but John was already walking back to the couch opposite her.

"So, what does it say here?" John asked lightly, flashing a wide, somewhat childish grin at Clara. He slapped his hands together in great excitement (and amusement, to Clara's great annoyance,) and started to scan the screen with his eyes. Clara bit down on her lip, sitting herself up. She was torn inside – one half of herself wanted to snatch the laptop out of John's hands and scold him for taking something that wasn't his, but the other half was interested in how her neighbor would react.

Was it any good? Was Clara's head just in the clouds? Why wasn't John saying anything yet? It didn't take him _that _long to read two-thousand words, right?

_Damn _this situation! _Why _did this sort of stuff happen to _Clara_?

Clara felt as though a century (or a millennium) had passed when John finally placed the laptop in her hands. She looked up, an eyebrow raised in question and disbelief. John plopped himself back in the couch and after adjusting the ice-pack on his bad hand, he said, "Interesting."

"Interesting? That's all you have to say after reading a _personal _project of mine?" Clara asked, her words shooting out of her mouth faster than she could think. John lifted his shoulders carelessly. "Well, it's your project and it's not completed – it's a nice start, though I'm confused about what it's _about_."

There was an odd note in John's voice now – Clara could have sworn that there was a hint of apprehensiveness in his words. It was in his eyes, too – John's eyes were lowered to the ground and Clara could almost _see_ his thoughts whirring around his brain.

"What are you thinking about?" Clara finally brought herself to ask. John's head snapped up at her, a strange, wooden smile on his face. "Nothing in particular – did you always want to write?" John asked, crossing his legs. "I mean, you're an _editor_, but –"

"I'm not sure." Clara shrugged. "I like to write, but it's hard, so I'm not sure if that takes away from the experience. Right now, I just prefer to correct someone else's work and hope that…" Her voice drifted away. Why was she telling John all of this? It was completely and utterly private and Clara didn't owe John any secrets. She pushed her laptop away and folded her hands on her lap in the most casual manner she could, though this conversation felt _far_ from casual and comfortable.

John's eyes wandered around the room (which, again, Clara found a bit different and uncharacteristically quiet for John's usual behavior,) until he said, "I should probably get going now – Amy and Rory might be back in a bit and I should just…ehm…" He made an awkward, weak gesture with his hand at the door.

Clara nodded knowingly. "Of course," she replied, standing up. She made her way to the door and opened it. John made his way to the door and was just about to step out when instead, he leaned against the doorframe and turned to Clara. "Actually, I was wondering if you would…like to go out to the cinema with me sometime…?" His voice rose to an octave at the end, as though John was asking a question.

Clara tapped her fingers against the door thoughtfully. "It depends what movie it is – I don't really want to watch a movie that Amy and Rory won't like, and I don't want to watch a movie that doesn't agree with all of us."

John blinked. "All of us?" He echoed questioningly.

Clara lifted an eyebrow. "That's what you meant, right?" She asked slowly. "Go to the cinema with Amy and Rory and you…?" When John didn't answer right away, Clara allowed a small smile on her face and she punched him lightly on the arm. "Come on, I would think you'd be more certain in what you were asking."

John blinked again and he let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, yeah – that's what I meant. Definitely." He nodded frantically, giving Clara the strong impression of one of those bobble-head toys that she used to adore when she was a child. "Just the four of us – popcorn, those really cold slushy drinks, a movie…just a bunch of friends going out. Yup." He nodded again.

Clara grinned and poked him teasingly on the chin. "Silly _Doctor_," she said playfully, using extra emphasis on his kid-nick-name, "you need to know how to address a situation properly."

John returned the smile and replied, "'Course I need to – I'll…send you a response later today once I talk to Amy and Rory about it, yeah?"

Clara nodded and then held up a finger. "One minute – I'll have to give you my phone number." She said and dashed into her bedroom. She returned to the doorframe, and, once exchanging phone numbers and good-byes, the two departed.

A small smile lit up Clara's face as she returned to the couch. She forgave John for looking into her laptop and all thoughts and suspicions about John's less-than-smooth attitude for today flew out of her head. Clara was excited for the possibilities of tomorrow. Making new friends in New York has certainly filled her life with laughter and gladness, and _yes_, Clara felt like one of those characters from the cheesy, coming-of-age books, but it was a delicious, savory feeling of freedom and bliss.

Clara spent the rest of the day writing up the rest of her story (she logged in another two-thousand words today, though it still sounded like rubbish to her,) and managed to finish editing several other works. In other words, she had a completely calm, normal, typical day.

It wasn't until a little after nine did Clara's phone chime with a text message from John –

_Amy + Rory agreed to _The Fault in Our Stars._ Is that alright with u? _

Clara grinned in amusement, staring at her phone screen. It never occurred to her that Amy and Rory were fans of teary, romantic stories. Or John, as a matter of fact – she had pinned them all down as fans of adventure or sci-fi movies. However, seeing that Clara was a fan of romantic sob stories herself, (and John Green was an absolutely _fantastic _writer,) she tapped back –

_Sounds good. I'll bring the tissues. _

She had meant for the message to be a joke, but immediately, John texted back –

_I can change the movie if you want. If you really think it'll be bad, it's all fine. _

Clara giggled into her knuckles, shaking her head. She could almost see John's widened eyes of panic – he really was too adorable sometimes. Still laughing, Clara wrote –

_No, silly. _The Fault in Our Stars _is perfect. I can't wait! _

Clara could hear the sigh of relief in John's next message –

_O. well, that's great. The movie begins at 6:00 PM tomorrow, so be ready around 5:30 PM? _

This time, Clara rolled her eyes and texted –

_Aye-aye, Cap'n. You better be at my door at 5:30. _

There was another chime –

_I will. I won't be late. Goodnight! : ) _

Clara smiled fondly at the message and, texting a _goodnight, _she walked back into her bedroom and started to get ready for bed.

xXx

John wasn't lying – he was _very _punctual. At exactly 5:30 PM, a loud, friendly series of knocks sounded through the entire room. Clara grinned and took one, last look at herself in the mirror (in case she had anything embarrassing on her face or stuck in between her teeth – _God_, that'd be awful.) and swung open the door. Sure enough, John and Amy and Rory were crowded at her door.

"_Hi!_" They all chorused at once, immediately triggering a few giggles and laughs. Clara smoothed out her outfit (a simple, burgundy-colored, cap-sleeved dress and a pair of black, ankle-length boots,) and flashed a smile at the trio. "Shall we go?" She asked lightly.

"No need for the formalities!" Amy trilled, grabbing Clara out of the apartment room. Exchanging smiles, they all sprinted down the stairs, earning themselves several grumbles from the other residents about youngsters and informal fashion, but Clara didn't mind it at all, and judging by the look on Amy and Rory and John's faces, they didn't care much about it, either.

After cramming themselves into the backseat of a taxi, (and ignoring the look of surprise on the driver's face,) they all started a small discussion about the movie. Clara was the first to speak. She looked over at Amy and Rory, an amused smile on her face. "I didn't think you'd like this kind of movie," she said humoredly. Amy's eyes gave a sidelong glance at John, who was staring out the window, and replied easily, "I don't – but you know, it's nice to try new things once in a while, yeah?"

Before Clara could try and decipher what Amy meant behind this, Rory quickly said, "Not me – I bawled during _The Notebook. _And _Titanic_." He shook his head. "I don't have any shame in admitting this!"

Amy flung her arms around Rory's neck, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "It only makes you more lovable." She said and Clara smiled at the two of them. She really _was_ a sucker for romance, both in movies and in real life. One arm still wrapped around Rory's neck, Amy turned to look at Clara. "Do _you _have a little lover waiting for you back in England?" She asked, her eyes sparkling.

Clara gave Amy a sheepish, embarrassed smile and shook her head. "No," she replied. "I _did _have a few boyfriends when I was still in Secondary School and a Sixth Form student – but none of them were really serious. I didn't have any messy break-ups, so I suppose I should be grateful." She finished all this with a cordial laugh. "What about you? Besides Rory, I mean."

Amy shrugged. "Like you, I had a few boyfriends – but they weren't really serious. A few kisses here and there, but…no fireworks." She smirked and looked fondly at Rory, who beamed back. Amy thrust a finger at John's direction. "_He_ didn't have a lot of girlfriends, either."

Clara grinned and turned to John. "Is that true?" She asked, poking him on the shoulder. John tuned around and smiled at her. "No," he replied. "I had _one _girlfriend – um…but it didn't end well. She moved away and um…I kind of stopped communicating with her." John grimaced, shooting a glance at Amy and Rory, as if to say, _your turn. _

"She was _our _friend." Rory said awkwardly. "Amy and I still talk to her, but uh – things are a bit _tense _whenever we're all together."

Clara gave them all a sympathetic wince. "I can see why." She mumbled and clasped her hands together. "Well, we're not alone in that, right, John?" She poked him in the arm again, earning herself a smile from John.

Clara was quite proud of being the one to make John smile.

xXx

_The Fault of Our Stars _movie was perfect. Amy curled up next to Rory in the cutest way imaginable (in Clara's opinion, anyways,) and Clara was seated next to John, who was actually a rather nice person to watch a movie with. He patted Clara's back comfortingly at all the right moments and even allowed her to sob into his shoulder when the scene of Augustus' funeral came around. There were a few giggles amongst them, too, though they were sure to keep them quiet enough so that they wouldn't annoy anyone. For one, during the previews at the beginning of the movie, John jumped a bit in his seat and claimed that he had a brain freeze from drinking his slushy too fast. And then Amy's popcorn bag flew up because of a particularly scary horror film preview. (Then again, everyone had _some _sort of reaction to the movie, so Amy's airborne popcorn bag wasn't a source of annoyance.)

When the movie was over, Clara actually felt rather tired out from the amount of tears that had escaped her body. She groaned in exhaustion and rested her head against John's shoulder. "I want to laugh and cry at the same time," she moaned.

"And this is why I don't watch this kind of stuff." Amy said with a sigh, shaking her head. Rory grinned. "I don't think so – I thought I detected a tear or two from you during the movie." He replied whilst wiping a few tears himself. (He, too, was quite a mess during the film.)

"Oh, put a sock in it." Amy retorted, though the smile on her face confirmed Rory's statement.

John, giving Clara an understanding squeeze of the shoulder, replied, "That _was_ sad – but a beautiful story, really." Clara nodded tearfully and sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "_Ugh_, the next time we all watch a movie, we're going to have to watch a comedy of a sort." Clara said wearily.

"That sounds good." Amy murmured in agreement. "Comedies are _always _better – only problem is that John has the _loudest laugh ever." _

"Oi! It's _good _to have a loud laugh!" John protested, causing Amy and Clara to giggle. They all walked out of the building and into the streets, looking for a place to eat dinner before going back to the apartment complex. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Clara finally found a nice, clean-looking _Buffalo Wings_ restaurant.

"I'll be ten pounds heavier tomorrow morning," Amy swore after they all ordered their food, though she didn't look quite bothered by the concept. Clara tapped her finger against the table, taking a look out the window. Rain was slowly starting to fall from the sky and there were a few rumbles of thunder in the distance. She smiled and turned back to John, who, to her surprise, had his eyes trained on her.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked, lifting an eyebrow. John cleared his throat, and almost as though he had noticed that Clara was looking at him, quickly shook his head and started staring down at his hands. Giving him a quizzical, confused expression (that he didn't see), Clara turned back to the window and watched the rain for a bit more until the food showed up.

The next few minutes were completely silent except for perhaps the sounds of the group tucking into their food. Despite the fact that they had all had their fair share of popcorn and slushy, Clara supposed that sad movies can make you hungrier than ever.

It wasn't until the clock read nine thirty did John pay for the check (after a long argument with Rory about who got to pay the check – Rory kept insisting that he should be the one to pay, being the person he is,) did they all stand and get out of the restaurant. Though it wasn't that late, it was evident that the movie and the food had made them all feel drowsy.

Once piling into a taxi, Clara almost immediately drifted into sleep. She was grateful that John allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder once again. He was warm and comfortable and when Clara woke up, she didn't have any fears of liking him. She felt just right.

xXx

Amy and Rory were the first ones to go inside John's apartment. John gently nudged Clara inside her own apartment room. She looked up sleepily at John and smiled at his kind gesture.

"Had a nice night?" He asked quietly.

Clara nodded and yawned, stretching out her arms. "It was good." She murmured, turning her key in the lock. "We should do it again sometime…"

John grinned and took a small half-step back for her to push open the door. Clara gave him another sleepy smile and flashed a thumbs-up. "Goodnight, John." She said. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

John nodded enthusiastically, holding out the door for Clara. "Of course," he replied quietly. "Goodnight, Clara."

Clara grinned and giving him a small wave, closed the door.

xXx

It was still raining when Clara woke up. Actually, _raining _was an understatement. Sheets and sheets of water poured from the heavens and every time Clara looked outside, she could only _barely _make out the outlines of trees and cars skidding around the streets. She cringed and clucked her tongue at the thought of how many accidents there would be later today – driving in the rain was _always _a bad idea. She sincerely hoped that everyone would be safe.

There were a few good things that came out of the rainy day, though. John invited her to come over to his apartment room and so she did, bringing her notes and laptop with her to work. Now, Clara was sitting cross-legged on the couch, typing away and finishing up some other works for writers and Amy and Rory playing a board game and John reading a book in an armchair.

It was all rather cozy – John had even made them all cups of coco, which in Clara's opinion, tasted much better than the coco at the coffee shop. When Clara asked him if he added something different, John simply shrugged. "No," he replied. "At least, I don't think so."

"He made it with lots and lots of love!" Amy had said teasingly, lifting her mug of coco. "To John and his lovely hot chocolate skills!"

Giggling, Clara had also lifted her mug. "Hear, hear!" She cheered and John's cheeks turned into the most delicate shade of pink that she had ever seen.

The constant booming of thunder and crack of lightning made the room seem cozier, too. Clara was almost tempted to write about this all and maybe re-create it in her story – though she decided that she'd rather not, seeing that this moment was so precious to her. The rest of the hour flew by in silence except for perhaps the sound of dice flying out of Amy and Rory's hands and the pages of John's book flipping around and the tap-tap-tap of Clara's hands hitting the keyboard.

It wasn't until Clara heard a strange, metallic _snap_ sound did she look up from her laptop screen. She rubbed her eyes, brushing away the soreness and cramped feeling of her eyes from staring at the screen at so long. "What was that?" She asked tiredly, blinking owlishly at the room.

John held up his phone with a sheepish smile. "I took a picture." He said. "Didn't mean to disturb anyone – carry on!" Clara smiled and stood up from the couch as John started to tuck the phone into his pocket. "Oh, really?" She asked lightly. "Can I see the picture?"

Immediately, Amy and Rory's heads snapped up, though Clara wasn't sure why. John placed a protective hand over his pocket. "No!" He protested.

"Come on, John!" Clara said, placing her hands on her hips. "You got to see my story! I can see your picture, right?"

Quicker than the lightning that lit up the sky outside, Clara yanked out John's phone and immediately started it up, only to realize that she needed his password to activate it. She let out an exasperated sigh as John plucked the phone out of Clara's hands. "Nice try," he said lightly, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "But you're not going to see the picture until…later."

"Later? When is later?" Clara whined, throwing herself back onto the couch.

John gave her a teasing smile. "When I say it is," he replied smugly, walking back to his armchair. Clara harrumphed and kicked herself back, returning to her story. The room lapsed back into silence and Rory and Amy returned to their game.

xXx

Grumbling expletives under his breath, John grabbed his coat from a hanger in the closet and started to make his way to the door. Clara was the first to look up. "Where do you think you're going?" She asked with a frown.

"Supplies," John replied with an annoyed grimace. "Just looked in the cupboard and the fridge – I need to get some today."

This time, Amy and Rory looked up. "Don't you think that's a bad idea? There's a storm outside, after all." Rory offered, and if on cue, a loud boom of thunder shook the entire building. Clara shuddered, nodding in agreement. "You can always wait until the storm clears." She said.

John shook his head. "It has to be now," he replied grimly. "The storm probably won't end until tomorrow, and by then, it'll be one day late." He sighed. "No, I'll just do it now and get it over with. Besides," he added, opening the door, "I'm a careful driver. I'll be back before you know it."

Flashing a grin at them all, John ducked out of the room. Clara stared at the door for a few minutes and looked back at Amy and Rory, who looked just as worried as she felt. "Is it usual for him to do this sort of stuff?" She asked at last. Amy puffed out a sigh. "All the time." She mumbled with a disproving shake of her head. "But that's John for ya – he's careful most of the time, though."

Clara smiled dryly. "Really? I never knew." She murmured. "I mean, I would think that with John's attitude, he'd be –"

"Careless? Incautious? Heedless?" Rory suggested from the ground. Clara let out a small laugh and nodded. "Exactly." She replied.

Rory shrugged. "Like Amy said, that's John for you – he's just got undeniably good luck." He replied. "Good luck in most things, actually – except for maybe when it comes to his older brother, but you know that stuff with siblings."

Clara raised an eyebrow, settling herself on the ground next to Amy. "Actually, I don't know." She replied. "I didn't think John had a sibling."

"Really?" Amy grinned. "Well, John had an older brother – named David, actually. He's three years older than him and he's almost just as dorky, and while the two get on alright most of the time, they could have the _loudest _and _longest_ fights." Clara laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not surprised." She said, crossing her legs and then she paused. "You said his older brother's name was David?" A small memory was beginning to re-surface in her mind. "I knew someone named David back when I was in uni – it's all real funny. He used to date my friend, Martha Jones."

Amy's eyes rounded. She exchanged a look with Rory and the two burst into laughter. "You're _kidding _me!" She giggled into her knuckles. "David actually told us he was seeing someone named Martha Jones – we must be talking about the same person!"

Clara grinned. "Really?" She asked, and then she asked, "How is it that I didn't know about John?"

"Three years difference," Amy replied with a shrug. "John was going to a different school and David might not have mentioned him – he was a bit…off during that time." She grimaced and folded her hands over her lap. "But enough of David – let's get down to John."

"What do you mean?" Clara asked, laughing. "You're not going on with that rubbish about John dating me, are you? Because we're _not. _Just two days ago, we promised each other that we were just friends and nothing would ever happen between us."

Amy rolled her eyes, twirling a strand of ginger hair around her finger. "Don't make promises you can't keep!" She said in a sing-song, airy voice. Now it was Clara's turn to roll her eyes. "But I _don't_ like him," she argued. "Really. I'm sorry that you think that, but John is…he's sweet and kind and bubbly and funny and –"

"Handsome?" Amy interrupted, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Clara felt heat gather at her cheeks and she groaned, bringing her hands to her face. "You're just as bad as my other friends!" She shrieked. "But really, fine, even if John is a _bit _attractive, I wouldn't like him. Period. Never. We're just friends and I would want to keep it that way."

Amy and Rory both stared at Clara. She crossed her arms, a defiant expression pasted on her face. "What?" She asked. Amy simply shrugged and looked down at the ground.

* * *

**A/N: To anyone who is wondering, _yes_, there's a point in all of this. _Yes_, we _might _be seeing just a _bit _of David and John's mysterious ex-girlfriend at one point in the story. (Any guesses?) I'm not gonna bring up _why_, though...sh...spoilers! *winks* **

**As always, please review! I know that there's more than three or four people reading this story so it would be just _amazing _if you could tell me what you thought of this chapter. Constructive criticism is always great, but flames are not!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! I'm back with a new chapter! This isn't quite as long as I would have liked, but I still liked writing this little installment. Maybe it's because this is when everything changes. And by everything changes, I mean things are beginning to get exciting. :) **

**And who else is excited for season eight? It's coming this Saturday! *does a little happy dance* I've seen multiple previews of ****_Deep Breath _****[8.01] and I already love the Twelve, though I'm always going to miss and love Eleven. :') **

**With that said, enjoy this chapter! **

* * *

_"Vulnerability shows us who really cares for you and how much they care." _

_Chapter Ten. _

By the end of the afternoon, the storm had calmed down a bit so that the thunder and lightning and rain weren't as violet as earlier that day. Clara supposed it took away from the cozy feeling of John's apartment, but really, she didn't let that feeling on. Amy and Rory didn't seem to have much of a problem with it, either, so the atmosphere didn't change too much.

There wasn't much talking either, especially after the little discussion between Clara and Amy about John. Speaking of which, Clara _still _wasn't sure what to think about that. She wasn't lying to Amy – she wasn't quite sure what was with the persistent interest, though.

_Ugh. _

Clara was still immersed in her thoughts when her phone started to ring. A few seconds ticked by until finally, Amy asked, "Are you going to answer that, or are you going to…?"

Blinking, Clara looked down at her phone. "Oh, right – didn't notice," she muttered and dug it out of her pocket. "Hello?"

"_Clara! _Hello! Are you still in my apartment? How're Amy and Rory? You didn't set the place on fire, did you?" John's voice blared through Clara's phone. She flinched at the sudden noise and took a few moments to process it all. Finally, she managed to reply, "Yes, I'm still in the apartment – Amy and Rory are fine; they're still playing that board game – and er…why, did you _expect _me to set the room on fire?"

Both Amy and Rory turned to give Clara a confused, bewildered look and she shrugged in response, mouthing the words, 'No idea'.

Satisfied with that answer, the couple returned to their game. Clara brought her knees to her chest and adjusted her grip on her phone. "Why'd you call?" She asked and took a look out the window. "Did you get lost or something? I don't think it's raining _that _bad…"

"Well…er…in a manner of speaking, yes, I suppose I got lost." John replied sheepishly. Clara's mouth clicked open. "Are you serious?" She asked, standing up. She could hear John inhale a sharp breath. "I said _in a manner of speaking_, didn't I?" He retorted indignantly. "And by _getting lost_, I mean breaking down in the _middle of nowhere_."

"What do you mean, in the middle of nowhere?" Clara parroted back, casting a meaningful stare at Amy and Rory, who (to her relief) were now looking up intently. There was a short pause on the other end. Then, John replied, "Fine – not in the middle of nowhere…more like twenty miles north from the town."

Clara rubbed her brow tiredly. "What are you even _doing _there?" She asked dubiously. "I thought you said you were only going to pick up supplies, not…go out of town."

John puffed out a sigh, which was rather irritating to Clara's ear on the phone. "I was looking for _light bulbs!_" He said in a whiny, childish voice. Clara rolled her eyes – she could almost _hear _his pout. "And you thought that the nearest store that sold light bulbs were twenty miles away?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, that's what the woman in the store said! She said that the light bulbs in the store downtown were all out and the nearest store was half an hour from here!" John shot back. Clara shook her head at it all and asked, "Did you call the police?"

There was a small silence.

Clara groaned. "_John_, they might have been able to get to you quicker!"

"Well, I don't trust the police! The police aren't always nice!" John replied huffily. "The police make me feel stupid! I wanted to call you instead because at least then I'll have a _shred _of dignity left!"

Despite the situation, Clara couldn't help but to smile. "Don't be so dramatic, John." She said and went on, "Amy and Rory and I will be there in a bit, alright? For now, call a tow truck or something to get your car fixed up. We can pick you up and _save your dignity_."

"Thank you." John replied, exasperated and with that, he hung up.

"What did John get himself into now?" Amy asked immediately when Clara turned to her. She rubbed a hand over her neck and said, "John's car broke down somewhere. He just said that he was about twenty miles away from the town and that leads to the highway, right? We'll be able to spot his car."

Swinging her jacket over her shoulders, Clara held open the door and turned to Amy and Rory. "Come on – apparently, he doesn't want to deal with anyone else except for us." She said tiredly. Amy gave Clara a knowing smile and stood up. "We'll be right behind you."

Clara nodded and waited for Amy and Rory to get ready – when they were; she flung the door open and marched out into the hallway. The three made their way down the stairs and headed outside – only to be instantly slapped in the face by a gust of wind.

"Still stormy, then?" Rory yelled, looking up at the sky. Clara grinned. "Apparently!" She shouted back and hailed for a taxi. Before long, the group was seated in a car and being driven out of the area.

During the entire ride, Clara thought back on the little phone conversation she had with John. Her insides warmed unexpectedly at the thought of how he called her _first_ to tell her that his car had broken down. John could have called Amy or Rory, but no, it was _her_.

_Wonder why, _she thought to herself, watching water slide down the windows. _Maybe John thought that Rory and Amy's phones were turned off. Or something. _

Either way, Clara was strangely glad. Well, she _should _be glad about it, right? This meant that John thought that she was a good friend, even though they had only agreed on it a few days ago.

_But you know what he's like. He makes friends quickly. Why _wouldn't _he call? _Clara chided to herself and satisfied by her own answer, Clara settled back to her seat in ease. The rest of the drive flew by quickly. It wasn't that long to locate John's car, either – it was the only one being dragged off, after all.

John was standing outside, his jacket over his shoulders and his eyes squinting narrowly at the road. Clara let out a small snort and, waving at John through the window, said, "Stop here, please!"

The taxi driver obliged and Clara opened the door. John grinned, spreading out his arms. "Hello, Clara! I see you've found me – and Amy and Rory too, just like you said!" He said cheerfully. Clara laughed, taking John's wrist. "Come on – let's get you back home."

"Sounds like a plan." John replied, nodding, and the two managed to squeeze themselves in the taxi. Amy and Rory burst into a conversation with John, who seemed rather intent on describing how annoying the entire ordeal was. "Don't you _dare _tell anyone else about this!" John said, pointing accusing fingers at Amy and Clara.

"What about Rory?" Amy asked, pouting.

"Rory doesn't like to talk about other people!" John retorted, causing Rory to smile widely at his wife. Amy simply rolled her eyes and lightly punched him on the arm. Clara, on the other hand, pointed out, "Well, if I _was_ to tell anyone about this, I would point out that _you _were the one begging for help first."

"Oi! I was not _begging!_" John said indignantly. "I do not _beg!_"

Clara mocked, "_Oh, Clara! Help me! You have to come get me or else I'll have to call the police and I'll be so embarrassed!_" She grinned, poking John on the shoulder. "Does that sound familiar to you?"

At Amy and Rory's laughter, John flushed. "Ha, ha," he said sarcastically. "_Very _amusing – and for the record, I do _not _sound like that!"

"Keep telling that to yourself, John!" Clara replied sweetly.

The entire drive back to the apartment building was full of giggles and impersonations after that. Clara was surprised that the taxi driver didn't tell them all to shut up, though she was extremely grateful that he didn't. (However, she _did _notice that he looked relieved once they came to a stop in front of the apartment complex.)

John didn't seem quite finished with Clara, either. The minute they were all outside, John swept Clara into a little twirl, earning himself a shriek of surprise and laughter. "What're you doing?" She shouted. "It's still raining, dummy!"

"I know!" John replied, holding Clara out at an arm's length. "Best time to celebrate the day, don't you think?"

Unable to protest any further, Clara allowed herself to be spun around again. She caught Amy doing the same with Rory, who seemed to have caught onto the idea that John had. A bright smile lit up Clara's face – in that very moment, everything seemed to be a lighthearted, shining matter.

However, Clara couldn't say that out loud. She simply laughed and said, "This looks like something out of a cheesy, sappy Nicholas Sparks book."

"Cheesy book or cheesy people?" John asked quietly, lifting his eyebrows.

Clara paused. She looked up at John, a queer frown on her face. Everything else seemed to drown out of her ears as she replied just as softly, "Cheesy people. Definitely. Cheesy people."

Clara really couldn't explain what happened after that – just that suddenly, John was bringing his head closer to Clara and she was standing on the tips of her toes…and John's eyes were slowly closing and his hand was squeezing Clara's and then –

"I just remembered I have some things to do." Clara said suddenly, pulling away. She could feel her face flushing in humiliation and annoyance – what the _hell _was that all about? Why was John standing so close? Why was _she _standing so close? She tugged her hand out of John's and took a few steps backward.

John had a smile on his face, though his eyes looked wounded and disappointed. Clara forced herself to brush any sympathy aside. "Ehm – of course." John replied simply, tucking his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you around, then…?"

Clara shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly. "Maybe." She replied with a small bob of her head. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to the doors. "Well – have a nice day."

For the second time in this week, Clara pushed open the doors, wishing that she could slap and hug John at the same time. She hurried up the stairs, her eyes trained on the ground. What did she just do? Correction – what did _John _do? Were they going to kiss?

Clara froze in her tracks, her mind running over the thought. Well – John had a nice smile. And so, Clara supposed that meant he had nice _lips _–

The brunette shook her head violently. _Gah, no! John is a friend. Friend, friend, friend! You've been telling that to yourself ever since he first came here! An accomplice! A companion! Not a…potential boyfriend or whatever!_ With another, final shake of the head, Clara strode to her door. Once she was inside the apartment, she slid to the floor against the door. Clara drew out a long, tired breath and looked up at the ceiling.

All of these thoughts revolving around John was making Clara think like one of those delicate, pansy-like damsels in distress or something. Or at least, a damsel who was in desperate need for a prince or something.

_Damsel in distress? Prince? No way!_ Clara thought to herself with a snort, and she kicked herself up to a standing position. She threw her jacket over the couch and plopped into one of the cushions, automatically reaching for her laptop. With a start, Clara realized that she had left it in John's room.

_Another visit from him, it seems…_Clara thought glumly and ran her hands over her face. It wasn't that she hated seeing John – but she was dreading what was going to come within the next few hours. It was going to be a repeat of the last time something like this happened, or at least the last time that the actions shared between Clara and John were misinterpreted.

"Oh, _God_," Clara murmured to herself, lying down on her side. "Please, don't repeat yourself, Clara."

xXx

Later that evening, Clara's phone made a chiming sound, announcing a text message. With a sigh, Clara tugged her phone out from the pocket of her jacket and headed into her bedroom to read the digitized words –

_You have your laptop here. I'll give it to you tomorrow. _John.

_Thanks. _Clara.

_Are you mad at me? About earlier today, I mean. _John.

Clara looked down at the message, chewing on the insides of her cheek and considering what possible answers she could give. Then, she tapped – _I'm not mad. We're still friends, right? _

_Still friends. Yup. _John.

_Good. Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. _Clara.

_Okay. _

xXx

John didn't appear at Clara's door until late afternoon. Instantly, Clara could tell that _something _was wrong. For one, John looked tired. It was almost as if he had aged ten years overnight. There were dark, shadowy half-circles underneath John's eyes, for one thing, and his shoulders were rounded over, forcing him into a half-slump.

And even stranger – when John spoke, his voice was worn and lifeless and hollow, as if he had been awake for the entire night. (Actually, he _might _have, by the looks of it.)

"Your laptop," John said, handing over the said object in Clara's hands.

Clara nodded and looked up. "Er – is everything alright? You look…odd."

"Odder than usual?" John asked halfheartedly. Without waiting for an answer, John drummed his fingers against the pockets of his pants and went on, "I received a few messages last night. A few messages concerning a topic that I do _not _want to or would _like _to discuss." His voice rose a bit in indignation at the last sentence. However, before he could go on (or if Clara could possibly ask him what he meant) John exhaled a long, annoyed sigh and looked up at the ceiling. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, "So, for now, I'll have to…think this over. All of it."

John let out another sigh and looked back down at Clara with a forced smile. "Anyways. There's your laptop – have a nice day and have a nice…work session or whatever it is that you want to do today and…ahem. Yes." He bobbed his head awkwardly at the laptop and turned back around on his heel, quickly leaving Clara's door.

Clara simply stared at the square of floor that John had just been seconds ago. She gave it a series of quick, uncertain blinks and shifted herself out of the door, turning her head to see where John was going now. However, John was already out of sight.

Biting down on her lip, Clara allowed herself a few seconds to look around the empty hallway. She leaned against the doorframe and shifted her laptop in her arms. She wondered what John could possibly be so riled up about – and if Clara really cared or not.

"Probably nothing." Clara said quietly to herself, going back into the apartment room. She closed the door behind her and placed her laptop on the couch. However, as Clara straightened herself, she couldn't help but to spare a few more seconds on the small moments that had occurred.

Clara stood up and pushed herself back to her door. She propped it open with her foot and stuck her head outside, her eyes scanning the hallway again for…John? At this point, Clara wasn't quite sure what she was looking for now.

She closed the door again, though her confused and bewildered feelings didn't go away.

xXx

Clara wasn't quite sure what happened after that meeting with John, but she noticed that she was seeing less and less of him lately. Then again, Clara was never one to make trips outside of her apartment, but she had noticed that John didn't talk much to her. Not that it _bothered _Clara (of course not!) but it was a bit odd and unusual.

There were a few times when Clara would run into John and whenever she would, the two would exchange quick helloes, but to Clara's surprise, their discussion never went farther than that. Fairly soon, their helloes shortened to simple nods and acknowledging, halfhearted smiles and finally, eventually…just nothing. Not even a wave or grin or eye-catch – it was almost as though the two hadn't ever met.

_That _was beginning to annoy Clara. _That _was beginning to make her feel befuddled and angry and sad all at once – and she wasn't used to that feeling. She didn't like that feeling at all.

xXx

Weeks passed by and still, John refused to show any recognition to Clara.

Only now is Clara realizing that something must be really, truly wrong if he's gone into silence.

Clara doesn't really like the silence.

xXx

It's official. Clara's labeled this time-period the _Silence_.

xXx

Just the other day, Clara decided to go to the coffee shop that she had went with John all of those weeks ago. It was a bit odd to be there without John, but it couldn't be helped. She ordered the hot chocolate, though she threw it out a few minutes later.

It wasn't as good as she had remembered.

xXx

"Clara!"

"Amy!"

"Gosh, it's been forever since I've seen you!"

"I could say the same about you – where have you been?"

The Scottish woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head. "I've been in John's apartment this entire time – Rory's there right now."

Clara and Amy were sitting on the park bench, watching a few boys kick around a football and screaming over the excitement of it all. Clara almost couldn't believe her eyes when she had seen Amy round the corner – it had seemed like a forever for her since the last properly talked.

Amy, to Clara's relief, seemed just as glad to see her. The two immediately went to talking and catching up, which felt nice, especially after those weeks of the dreadful _Silence. _

"What are you doing there?" Clara asked quizzically. "I didn't think you were staying for this long."

Amy grimaced. "Well, _someone's _got to make sure that John won't do anything stupid – Rory's better at all of this care stuff, but I've been doing my share of the work." The grimace turned into more of a worried, concerned frown. "But to be honest, I think Rory's just offering to do more work because he doesn't want me to aggravate John."

Clara lifted her eyebrows. "Aggravate John?" She asked. Those words together sounded foreign to Clara. Actually, this entire concept sounded a bit unusual.

Amy's brow furrowed. "Aggravate John," she repeated. "Not that I don't blame him…I suppose he _should _be a bit...annoyed after the turnabout of events."

"_What _events?" Clara asked incredulously.

Amy blinked and looked at Clara, eyes wide. "Don't you know? I thought he was going to tell you." She said slowly.

Clara liked this situation less and less. She folded her hands together and stared hard at the redhead before her. "Do I _look _like I know?" She asked in a low voice. "John hasn't been talking to me for a while. I think he might have forgotten that I'm on this planet."

Amy rubbed her temples, shaking her head. "I should have known he'd do something like that," she murmured quietly and looked back up at Clara.

"Clara, John is being forced to go back to England."

* * *

**A/N: Well - I tried. From here on out, things are going to get much more exciting and interesting. Clara's going to come to realize certain things about herself and about John, secrets will be revealed, and newer characters will be introduced. *slaps hands together* So, are we ready? Geronimo! **

**Reviews are always awesome - constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not! **


	11. Chapter 11

**YES. FINALLY UPDATING THIS STORY. GOSH DARN IT. I feel like it's been two months, when really, it's only been...what, about twelve days? *gasp* TWELVE DAYS! AND THEN THERE'S THE TWELFTH DOCTOR! WOW! (I know, that's a bit of a reach...XD) Speaking of which, I am in love with Twelve. Of course, I miss Eleven ****_tremendously, _****but I've got a good feeling about Peter being the Doctor. XD And who else has conflicted feelings about Danny Pink? He seems like an awesome character (such a dork - slamming his head on the desk...) but ****_gosh darn it, stop flirting with Clara! Clara, stop flirting with him! GAAAH! _**

**Aaand I'm calm - enjoy! **

* * *

_"It's the unexpected that changes us." _

_Chapter Eleven. _

She blinked once, twice, three times at Amy before asking, "So?"

Amy frowned. "What do you mean, _so? _Aren't you worried? John's going back to _England_, Clara."

Clara shrugged. "I heard you the first time," she replied coolly, and she _was_ unimpressed with the news. If anything, she was angry – she wasn't going to act shocked or surprised or, heaven forbid, _sad_ over the announcement, even if Amy expected her to be. Clara didn't understand what this was supposed to mean now – was she supposed to be _sympathetic _for John now? He was going back to England, fine. Fine. _Fine. _If he was going to act like a pouty, whiny teenager about it, then Clara wasn't going to acknowledge this little factoid.

"Hello, _England? _The country across the ocean? Your _friend _is going back there and the only thing you're going to say is _so?_" Amy asked incredulously, flapping her hands over Clara's face. "Aren't you even a _little _bit worried or disappointed or – or –"

Clara stood up, planting her hands on her hips. "He gets to go back home – big deal," she said. "That doesn't exactly excuse him from giving me the silent treatment." She glared at Amy. "And for the record, I really, _really _wouldn't call John a friend. Not after shutting me out like that."

Amy bounced to her feet, looking just as annoyed as Clara. "What, like _you've _never shut John out before?" She asked indignantly. Clara flung her hands up in the air. "That doesn't count," she shot back. "First of all, John and I knew each other for a few _weeks _and those shut-out periods only lasted for hours or days at a time. This is _different._"

Amy held her glare at Clara. "You're right," she said. "It _is _different. And you know how?"

Before Clara could respond, Amy rolled on, "It's different because this reason is much, much bigger. I'm _sorry _that John's been giving you the cold shoulder, but what he's going through is so much more stressful than why _you _shut him out. Show a bit more sympathy, will you?"

Clara stared at Amy, her arms slowly crossing themselves. "And _what _is so stressful for him that he'd be acting so different?" She asked steadily. Amy puffed out a small sigh and looked up at the sky, as if it was going to speak for her. However, after a few seconds of silence ticked by, the ginger answered, "There's a reason why Rory and I aren't back in England yet."

"_How _is that related to –" Clara started to say, but quickly quieted as Amy went on, "We were forced to come here."

The brunette's eyes widened at the Scot before her. Amy was chewing down her lower lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot with such an uneasy look over her face that Clara couldn't quite decide whether to be angry with this new declaration or not.

"Not that Rory and I didn't want to see John! God, we missed him, we really did – and I wish that we could have left for him earlier to escape this mess, but –"

"When you said that Rory was looking after John because you might aggravate him…" Clara's voice drifted as Amy nodded her head, her eyes saddening at her words. "Rory and I had a job, Clara," Amy said softly. She looked down at her shoes. "You know, it's not really my place to tell you all of this, but I think most of the cat is already out of the bag, right?" She let out a weak, humorless laugh.

"John has a great-aunt named Idris," Amy said slowly. "And while John and Idris had always gotten along fine, they weren't always on…good terms. In the last few years, they fought a lot – John wanted to become a photographer, but Idris wanted him to do something else. Become a lawyer or something like that." She snorted and shot Clara a side-long glance. "Can you _imagine _John being a lawyer? He'd be bloody awful."

When Clara didn't laugh, Amy cleared her throat and continued, "Anyways, after John moved out to the states, Rory and I were just returning to England from our honeymoon. We were excited to go see John and we had already exchanged a few letters and…that was when we learned about why John left England so quickly." Amy wrung her hands, looking back up at the sky. "Rory and I were talking about seeing John in the states – and we were also trying pretty hard to keep our heads down. We know Idris, you see, and when those two fight…" She grimaced. "Let's just say that things get messy and people always, always, _always _get caught in the middle, whether you like it or not."

"Soon enough, Idris found Rory and me – she started telling us to bring John home. We didn't have much of a choice," she added. "Trust me, Rory and I didn't want to go see John just to drag him back to England – back to Idris, who didn't have a lot of respect for his own opinions – and then Idris told us that she was going to send us or David and River Song."

"River Song?" Clara asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Who's she?"

Amy pressed her lips together. "Our friend," she replied quietly. "The one who dated John. The one who…isn't exactly John's favorite person in the world right now, mainly because she's agreed to helping Idris bring him back to England."

Clara's nose wrinkled distastefully and Amy nodded with a grimace. "I know what it sounds like," the Scot muttered. "River is a great person, really, but she can be – um – _aggressive _when it comes to certain topics. John is one of them." She sighed. "That's probably one of the many reasons why they broke up, anyways."

Clara shook her head. "Right," she murmured. "So…this is a _lot _to process."

"Well, of course it is." Amy replied and gripped Clara's arm. "Can you come back to the apartment with me? Rory can explain the rest better than I can."

"Wouldn't John be there?" Clara asked. "Because frankly, I don't think _I'm _his favorite person in the world right now, either." Amy waved away Clara's sentence with a wave of her hand. "No, Clara, he's completely fine with you – this is…just his way of coping." Amy looked down at the sidewalk. "He gets lonely inside, even if he's surrounded by people who love him. He doesn't tell anyone – he just _shuts down. _And when he _does _wake up, he'll be angry. Just very, very angry."

Amy looked back at Clara. "And that's when you know he's been lonely for too long." She said quietly.

Clara chewed on the insides of her cheek and turned to the apartment buildings. "Right," she simply said. "John's, here we come."

However, before Clara could even take the first step towards the complex, Amy held her back. "There's another thing you should know," she whispered. Clara sighed. "Isn't there always?" She asked tiredly.

Amy's lips twitched into a small smile, though it didn't have much happiness put into it. "I know you got really annoyed about how Rory and I kept talking about how you should…uh, hook up with John. I'm really sorry about that." She cringed. "You see, Rory and I both thought that if Idris knew that John had a…girlfriend or a lady friend, Idris would change her mind. That was stupid thinking on our part." Amy gave Clara a crooked grin. "Er…so, forgive us for that?"

Clara blinked. A strange, bewildering muddle of emotions was slowly whirring inside her, though she couldn't bring herself to say anything about it. She swallowed and managed a small bob of a nod. "Yeah, of course," she replied in a soft whisper. "I forgive you two – I can…see why you'd hope something like that."

Amy shook her head and started to lead Clara back to the buildings. "Yeah, well, again – stupid thinking on Rory and my part. Idris wouldn't have given a damn thing about John having a girlfriend or not. She'd probably say something like, _girlfriends only last for a while _or _bring her with you_." Amy made a small _pfft _sound with her lips. "And let me tell you, Idris _always _gets her way, no matter what."

"Obviously not," Clara replied lightly and when Amy turned to her in confusion, she went on, "well, you told me that John managed to get away to the states to become a photographer, right?" Amy smirked in response.

"That was something of a miracle, Clara – I'm actually surprised that John was able to stay away for this long." Amy replied. "And besides, look at how well this is turning out now."

Clara looked around the complex and sighed. "You're right," she agreed. And she was – this was turning out to be one big, chaotic mess and Clara wasn't even sure about where she stood in this friendship anymore.

xXx

Rory seemed warmer than ever when Clara and Amy walked into John's apartment room, though the brunette could already tell that there was something different in him. The atmosphere was woven with such a thick tenseness that Clara was surprised that it wasn't a real, tangible thing. John was sitting on the couch, fiddling with his phone. To Clara's surprise, a strange, hurting pang went through her heart when he didn't look up to see her.

"So glad you could come, Clara," Rory said kindly as she sat down in one of the armchairs. She fiddled with the armrest and replied, "Well…I couldn't exactly stay away – not after Amy explained most of the situation." Rory winced. "Ah," he replied. "That."

Clara bobbed her head into an awkwardly-shaped nod. "Right – well – what else is there to tell me?" She asked. "And _why _am I being told this?"

Rory looked over at Amy, surprised. "You didn't tell her that part yet?"

Amy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Well, I _did _say that I wasn't good at explaining things!" She shot back indignantly. Rory sighed and turned back to Clara. "Amy and I didn't want to drag you into this – really, we didn't. But after the recent turn of events, we thought that this…"

Clara nodded slowly. "Understandable." She paused. "Wait, so does that mean that Amy was originally going to tell me about –"

Amy cringed. "I didn't tell her that part, either," she whispered. There was another resounding sigh (even from John) around the room. Rory clasped his hands together and leaned against the wall. "Yes, Amy was going to see you – she was actually about to go see you in your apartment room and we…assumed that John already told you about England – it would make the explaining a bit easier, you see, but I suppose he didn't…and now we're all here." He said quietly, flicking John a sideways glance.

"You have to understand that we didn't want to be a part of this mess," Rory continued. "If anything, Amy and I were all for John moving away from England and traveling the world. That's what he likes to do! Idris shouldn't be able to argue against it!" He puffed out a sigh. "But we got caught in the middle, like we always do. And –"

"Amy already explained to me about the entire business with why you're here. And…what she said if you weren't going to come." Clara said quickly. Rory looked relieved at those words. "Good," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked over at John again, who still hadn't stirred from his position.

"Since we hadn't been able to persuade John into going back to England by now, Idris sent word that she was going to…send David and River." Rory said quietly. When Clara didn't speak right away, he added, "I'm assuming you already know who River Song is."

Clara nodded halfheartedly. "The aggressive ex-girlfriend, yup," she plowed carelessly. Rory winced at her wording, though he replied, "She's still a friend of ours."

Clara nodded again. "Mm-hm," she murmured. She looked up at Rory and Amy. "So now what? David and River are coming here to pick up John and persuade him into going back to England – what would happen if he doesn't go back?"

"Then Idris will get herself over here," Amy said quietly. "And this entire thing will blow up in our faces."

"This Idris woman is beginning to sound more and more like a bundle of laughs," Clara mumbled under her breath. Rory wrung his hands. "I know this all sounds incredibly sudden, but we need you to…help with this." He said slowly. Clara lifted an eyebrow. "How am I supposed to help out?" She asked. "I know this looks bad but I'm still not seeing my place in this situation."

"All you have to do is make River and David think that John is better off here." Amy replied. "And to be honest, River and David were always Idris' favorites." She added, wrinkling her nose. Clara frowned. "That's it?" She asked doubtfully.

"That's it," Rory confirmed with a bob of his head. "You can still do what you usually do, just…act like you're a very, very, _very _good friend of John's and this might actually work out."

Clara made sure not to look at John when she heard those words. Instead, she asked, "When are David and River coming?"

"In a few days," Rory replied. "Amy and I will be the ones to pick them up."

Clara drew out a long, heavy sigh and stood up. "You know, I always _did _have the feeling that the next weeks were going to be…different when John first moved in here." She said quietly. "Guess I was right." Clara fiddled with the buttons of her jacket and went on, "I'll do it. Go on with the plan, I mean."

Rory and Amy beamed at her. "Thank you," Amy said, smiling. "Really – it means a lot."

Clara shrugged and replied, "I don't think I have much of a choice, to be honest." Leaving the three at that, Clara strode out of the apartment room.

The minute she was outside, she headed towards her door and started fumbling for the key. She hadn't realized that her hands were shaking until the key was actually in her fist. Clara sighed again, resting her forehead on the door. It was odd, wasn't it? How one day, everything seems to be perfectly fine and then the next day, a few simple words could shatter everything else around you.

_I wouldn't call it shatter, _a small part of Clara's head whispered. _More like…ripping off a few bandages. _

"Ripping off a few bandages and reveal how bad the situation is, right," Clara mumbled to herself, shaking her head. She didn't care that her forehead was repeatedly thudding against the door, or the fact that she probably looked like an insane person from the security cameras in the hallway.

"I've got work to do," Clara said aloud. "Hold all this off until tomorrow morning – _then _you can actually think about it."

Feeling better with that arrangement with herself, Clara pushed open the door to step into her little home.

xXx

The rest of the day, surprisingly, was rather uneventful. Clara managed to edit nearly ten thousand words of some of her clients' stories, not to mention that she logged in a neat one thousand words into her own story. Again, she wasn't quite sure what she was writing. She had ignored the part about the boy tossing rocks at the protagonist's window _completely_, (in other words, she just kept it on the screen but didn't really add onto it…) and went onto more pressing topics in the story. (Why was the protagonist locked up in her room? Should she include magic in the story? To be honest, Clara felt like weaving magic and evil antagonists would be a bit over the top, but…)

Clara was convinced that there were other evil sources lurking outside of the protagonist's window, too – and they all wanted her to come out and do what _they _wanted.

_"Leave me alone!" She shouted furiously, backing away from the window. A crowd of dark, demonic faces crowded around the glass, their teeth bared into a vicious, fierce smile. "One day," they all crooned. The sound of their voices sent chills up the girl's spine. She didn't want to do anything except crawl under her bed and cover her ears to avoid the creatures._

_Oh, how she wanted to run!_

Clara kicked herself back in her desk seat and stared over that piece. She had the oddest feeling that her subconscious was trying to tell her something – who was this protagonist? Who were the demons crowding at her window? Why did she keep holding off the boy?

"Well, whatever you want to tell me will have to wait for later," Clara muttered, quickly going back to her edits. "I'd rather not solve riddles that are thrown by my own self, thank _you _very much."

Clara didn't bother going to bed until nearly three in the morning – by the time she finally buried her head under the covers, her eyes felt dry and incredibly tired from staring at a luminescent screen all night. All-nighters weren't really something that Clara wasn't used to by now, but for today, Clara felt more tired and worn out than ever. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to indulge herself in sleep and forget about the things of today. Or yesterday. Whatever. She was too sleepy to think about the concept.

However, just as Clara _was _about to drift off, her phone chimed. She groaned, resisting the urge to throw her phone across the room. Clara managed to drag her phone off her nightstand and bring it to herself from under the covers. She opened her eyes and was about to click the phone back to silent mode when she noticed the text message floating on the screen.

_To be specific, River and David are coming over on Saturday. And it's Wednesday. Just wanted to let you know that. – John _

"Oh, so _now _you text me," Clara grumbled under her breath. She considered texting back (and giving John Smith a mouthful of her own opinion on the matter), though she thought better of it and shut her phone down. Flopping over on her side in the bed, Clara whispered, "Goodbye, today. And good riddance."

* * *

**A/N - Since tomorrow will be my very first day of high school, (eeek!) I'll be updating (nearly) all of my** **stories today before I can get walloped into the dark, black hole known as homework and tests and exams. *groans* And I'm sure that many of you have either started school already...or are already in high school and therefore, I probably look like some over-obsessive freshman. Which I am. In a way. GAK. **

**Reviews are always nice! Constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Oh. My. Goodness. ****_Listen _****was amazing and sad and wonderful and...askdjfs;ldfdfd IS ANYONE ELSE EMOTIONALLY SCARRED?! IS ANYONE ELSE INWARDLY DYING OVER THE FACT THAT CLARA SAW THE DOCTOR AS A CHILD?! IS ANYONE ELSE ANNOYED THAT DANNY AND CLARA KISSED?! IS ANYONE ELSE STILL ON THE WHOUFLEÉ/WHOUFFALDI SHIP?! (I'm sorry, but every single moment with the Doctor and Clara was perfect. And Danny's past was very interesting - and Orson. Wow.) **

***clears throat* Anyways. Onto the real reason why you're here...read on! **

* * *

_"A smile is, in some ways, a simple lie told to mask the unbearable truth." _

_Chapter Twelve. _

Clara Oswald closed her eyes – she was on a plane, taking flight and going far, far away from here. She wasn't going back to England. She wasn't going to travel to Asia or Africa or even Antarctica (that is, if she was even able to…) but instead, she was just _away. _She was soaring above the clouds, leaving behind the dusty and cluttered past behind her.

The annoying, ear-clogging buzz of the airplane wasn't too loud, either, so Clara could enjoy the ride. She looked out the window and smiled, silently whispering _"farewell" _to each and every city that passed by.

_Leaving the world, _Clara thought to herself happily. _Next stop – everywhere. _

The sound of high heels clicking against the floor and stiff greetings being exchanged ripped Clara out of her little fantasy. Reality check – she wasn't on an airplane, and she certainly wasn't leaving the world. She was still stuck in the pages of her own little dilemma.

Still stuck in this dreadful reality, where demons with soft voices crooned for her help. Where people just couldn't seem to leave her alone. Where her next stop _wasn't _everywhere, but unknown. And the heroine, Clara Oswald, couldn't hide under the bed or try to shut the quiet words with her hands.

This was happening _now _– meeting River Song and seeing David Smith.

Clara stood up from the hard leather seat in the room and forced a (somewhat) pleasant smile on her face. She looked up to spot the owner of the high heels – River Song was a woman of curly, blonde hair and bright red lips. Her blue eyes were sharp and investigative, as if the eyes themselves were just _looking _for something. Clara could feel herself slowly degrading into nothingness as she observed River.

The simple truth was that everything about this River Song screamed _professional! Important! Note-worthy! _For goodness' sake, the woman was even _dressed _to the occasion – with bright, red heels and an elegant black dress that fell to her ankles. Clara was surprised that there weren't any journalists hovering around, trying to get a good word from River Song. (Fine, that might be a slight exaggeration…but River _did _look rather official.)

On the other hand, Clara looked…well, like she always did. Everything about _her _screamed _writing! Busy! Casual! _It shouted those messages from the worn out ankle-boots to the collarless shirt that Clara wore. She didn't even have a dressy skirt or anything – just a pair of unstylish, faded blue jeans and a cardigan.

_Perhaps I should've put on the lip gloss, _Clara thought wistfully to herself as she watched River nod to Amy and Rory. Earlier this morning, before Clara went out to meet Amy and Rory and John, she had slicked on some gloss – it wasn't much and it looked silly, and Clara knew it.

"What are you putting lip gloss on for?" Clara had asked herself, narrowing her eyes at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "_You don't need stupid lip gloss._" With those convincing (and slightly bossy) words, Clara had scrubbed off the lip gloss with a tissue.

But again, maybe the lip gloss _wouldn't _have been a bad idea…

"Clara! Hello! I'm David – remember me? From uni?" A familiar, cheerful voice asked from behind River Song. Clara drew out a small breath and, reinforcing her smile, she scooted over to see David Smith standing only a few feet away from her.

Honestly, David hadn't changed much – he still hadn't broken out of the habit of wearing a suit, of course. (And a pair of converse and trench coat to go with it…Clara remembered thinking that he looked absolutely ridiculous, but then again, he was related to _John, _who didn't have much of a fashion sense, either…) His hair was still very, very, _very _spiky and his smile was still bright, but he looked…happier? Bouncier? Clara couldn't really put her finger on it…

"Yes, I remember," Clara replied weakly, bobbing her head into a nod. "Um – you dated my friend, Martha Jones."

David nodded, his smile never leaving his face. The mention of Martha didn't even seem to bother him a bit, which unnerved Clara until he said, "Yeah, of course – she and I were just talking before River and I came here. Did she tell you that she's working as one of the doctors in Albion Hospital now? She loves it!"

At that, Clara couldn't help but to smile – she was aware of how Martha wanted to become a worker in the medical field and though the situation at hand wasn't exactly happy, she was glad for her friend. "That's great," Clara replied. "So, are you two…?" She let her voice drift as David shook his head.

"Dating? No, no," David replied, laughing. "We're friends – Martha's seeing someone else right now, and she seems happy." He shrugged his shoulders. "Which I think is _brilliant_, by the way…but I _am_ with someone."

For the sake of conversation, Clara asked, "Really? Who?"

"An old ex of mine," David replied. "Ah…she and I…well, there was this really…strange miscommunication between us and after uni, we got back together. We managed to get a hold of each other contact numbers and…viola!" He waved his hands in the air, which reminded Clara painfully of John's own little hand-waves whenever he grew excited.

Clara, however, smiled. "That's wonderful, David," she said, trying to sound sincere. And really, she was – she was glad about her friend back home and she was glad that everything seemed to be alright in England. In fact, Clara could use with some good news at the moment, especially with all of this going around her.

The nice atmosphere suddenly shattered, however, when John headed up next to David.

David grinned – he reached out his arms as though he was going to hug his younger brother, though John evaded the gesture and stuck out his hand instead. Clara watched the two carefully – David's happy expression became more pained as he slowly shook John's hand.

The hand-shake didn't even last for a full second before John pushed himself away. He looked over at Clara. "David, meet Clara – Clara meet –"

"We already know each other," Clara interrupted. She couldn't help but to notice how cool her voice sounded – and she really _wasn't _trying to act all icy and cold, but really, she wasn't able to bring herself to deal with anymore of John's actions.

"Really." John replied tersely, turning to look at David. The older Smith awkwardly cleared his throat and, rubbing a hand behind his neck, said, "We were in uni together."

"Oh," John nodded. The expression on his face was unreadable and the next words that he said were just as confusing. In a hurried, fast pace, John went on, "I suppose there's nothing out of the ordinary then, am I right? Hm?" He gave David a loud pat on the shoulder before turning to River.

"Well, then, Clara – meet River Song." John said, jutting his head out to the curly-headed woman.

There was instantly a small pause between the two women as they looked at each other – Clara noticed with some annoyance how calm and collected River looked. (It was almost as though River was _not _allowed to look calm and collected – it was bad enough that she looked so professional. Did she _have _to act so…so…even _more _professional? _Gah_.)

"Nice to meet you," Clara managed to say, sticking out a hand. River shook it, wearing a stoic smile. "And nice to meet you, too – I take it that John mentioned me?"

Clara nodded slowly. "Oh, yeah, of course," she replied. She let her hand drop to her side. "You know, only after Amy and Rory dropped the bombshell on us. _That _was when I actually knew who you were." Clara couldn't help the next words – they just seemed to cough out of her mouth…like…vomit. Or something. _Word vomit. Ha._

"Of course, before that, you were just She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –" Clara added, though the _harrumph _that came from Rory quickly forced her to close her mouth. She swallowed down another breath and pressed her lips together into another tight grin. "I mean…_it's nice to meet you."_

River nodded, her eyebrow slowly making its way to her hairline. "Yes, you've said that twice," she commented. Clara clasped her hands behind her back and replied tersely, "Yes. I know." She paused. "Would that be a problem?"

Perhaps Amy and Rory sensed trouble, perhaps David was tired of seeing such negativity after being so happy, or perhaps John was just irritated, because at once, everyone immediately said, "We should go, shouldn't we?" or some other variation of those words.

There was an odd pause between the group and Clara slowly replied, "That would be a good idea – we should go." She gestured down the hallway; even though that wasn't the real direction they were supposed to go. "We can split into two cabs or something."

"Good idea, Clara," Rory said quickly, bobbing his head into a nod. He sidestepped out of the way for David and River and once the group seemed to re-collect themselves, they started to head down the opposite hallway. Clara and John took the job of River and David's bags, even though there wasn't much to carry.

"Here," John said awkwardly as Clara reached over to grab David's back from the luggage belt. John's hand hovered over Clara's, though the brunette flinched back before they could come in contact. She made a point of keeping her eyes to the ground as she tugged the bag off the belt.

At that moment, Clara heard someone clearing a throat – Amy. Clara swallowed and forced herself to smile brightly at John. "It's fine, thank you," she said sweetly through gritted teeth. John blinked once, twice, and then, seeming to remember what the motive behind Clara's actions were, gave the woman a small nod.

_Wrong. This felt all wrong. _

Clara wanted to remain angry at John – she wanted to tell him how hard it felt to be ignored and shunted out of his world. She wanted him to feel _regret _and _remorse. _

Fine, maybe Clara was overreacting – no, correction – she _knew _she was being foolish and careless, but the pain felt very, very real to her. It felt like an actual tangible thing – something she could just reach over and pluck out of herself. She could feel the pain and disappointment inside of herself gathering into an ugly, grotesque mound of anger and negativity.

And the most horrifying thing about that grotesque mound?

It was beginning to control Clara's thoughts. And her actions.

And the fact that all of this – River, David, this mysterious Idris, the entire moving-back-to-England situation was just _bothering _Clara. It was forcing herself to curl tighter into a ball of frustration and she _hated _being compressed in such a problem. She just needed time to find herself – time to forgive John, time to process this.

But no, she only had a few days. Only a few days to try to find herself, forgive John, _and _help John and Amy and Rory.

_Why was she even helping them? _It wasn't like they were even really close friends – almost everything that Amy and Rory had told Clara before the Big Reveal (as Clara had officially labeled it,) was a lie. And again, the friendship that Clara and John had built was all but shattered. Ripped. Broken.

Clara had the feeling that neither John nor she knew how to fix the friendship, either.

When the group headed out of the building, the brisk December wind whipped against their faces. Clara re-adjusted her grip on David's bag as Rory started out to call for a taxi service. She shivered against the wind and brought her jacket tighter around herself. She narrowed her eyes against the overly-bright sunlight and just barely managed to shoot a glance at David and River.

River remained as still as ever, only looking down to check the time on her phone or take note of something. That was another thing that irritated Clara about River – while River seemed to keep herself focused and confident, Clara's eyes seemed attached to the ground. Her feet shifted uneasily from side to side, her entire body shook with the cold and…something else.

"It's colder out here than in England," David said conversationally. He grinned at Clara (again!). "What do you say?"

Clara shrugged her shoulders. "I think it is," she admitted. "But it's nice to get a bit of colder weather every so often."

David nodded knowingly. "Aye," he replied and cringed as another violent gust of wind ran through everyone. He was, expectedly, the first of many people to shudder at the iciness. "I _could _do without the constant threat of chill, though…"

Clara shrugged again. The friendly spark that she shared with David just a few minutes ago had all but died out – maybe it had something to do with the fact that River was _right there _or her previous thoughts on John. _Ugh. _

Thankfully, Clara didn't really need to add to the conversation, for Rory returned shortly. "Taxis are on their way," he said proudly, and sure enough, just minutes later, two black taxis rolled up on the street. There was a bit of a hassle trying to divide up the group – after some minutes of consideration, it was decided that River, Amy, and Rory would go into one taxi and David, John, and Clara would get into the other one.

"I know you don't want to, but just for the next few days, alright?" Amy had whispered as Clara hefted David's bag into the trunk. Giving her arm a squeeze, the Scot gave Clara an apologetic smile and darted to the other taxi to help Rory with River.

And so, Clara wedged herself in between David and John in the backseat of the taxi. It was awkward and stuffy inside the vehicle – John's knee was pressed against Clara's knee, though she noticed that John wasn't moving away. Then again, John _couldn't _pull himself away without being squashed against the door and frankly, Clara supposed that being stuck to her knee was more comfortable than being glued to the door.

David's knee, too, was pressed against Clara's other knee, though he seemed polite enough to make sure that not enough pressure was located over Clara's knee. He shifted his position from time to time, sometimes managing to crack a joke in between miles.

Clara supposed that she should be thankful for David at least _trying _to make the air between them all feel better. However, Clara slowly started to realize that his attempts at trying to break the already-thick ice were making everything feel tenser and more awkward. Finally, after the last joke and chuckle from David, John burst out, "_Why do you keep doing that?" _

David frowned. "Doing what?" He asked.

"You're acting like…like everything's fine! Everything is _not _fine!" John scowled. He crossed his arms (poking Clara in the ribs in the process) and glared out the window. For one fleeting second, Clara was reminded of an infant who hadn't gotten his way. (Though of course, this was much more drastic than that.)

David's voice was soft when he spoke, "I'm not trying to –"

"_Leave it._" John's voice was sharp and cool, something that Clara hadn't been accustomed to before. She shrank into her seat, wishing not for the first time that she wasn't in this position.

…

It was going to be a long ride home.

xXx

It took some time for Clara to help David and River get settled – the two had in fact been able to get their own apartment rooms. River and David's rooms were on the floor beneath John and Clara's, so it didn't require such a hike to get the bags up to the floor.

"How long have you known John?" River asked casually as Clara undid the blonde's bag. She glanced over her shoulder to meet River's inquisitive eyes. After a single beat of silence, Clara replied, "For a few months now, I suppose."

"A few months?" River asked, her eyebrows lifting. "From the way Amy and Rory talked about you, I had thought you knew him for a bit more than that."

_So did I, _Clara thought to herself, though she replied as cheerfully as she could, "No – just a few months."

"You have a tendency to repeat yourself, did you know that?" River asked as she examined the walls of the room. Clara drew in a quick breath and looked back down at the suitcase to bring out a few articles of clothing. She handed them to River, saying, "I would like to think it's just because my mouth can't keep up with my brain and I – repeat myself in the process."

"Hmm," was River's only reply.

Clara had to fight the flush rising on her cheeks for the next few minutes as she helped River unpack the rest of the bag.

xXx

When Clara got up to her floor, John was already waiting. She paused, staring at his lean figure resting against her apartment door and then sighed, forcing herself to walk forward. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go into my room now," Clara said, her voice dripping with false politeness. She placed one hand over the doorknob, the other in her pocket to search for her keys.

"I wanted to talk to you for a minute," John said quietly.

Clara didn't show any signs of acknowledgement to John's words. She dug out the key and held it up at an arm's length to make sure that it was the right one. Satisfied with it, she tucked the key into the lock and started to work on it. She could feel John's eyes on her as he went on, "I just – thank you. For this. For helping."

Clara abruptly swung open the door, causing John to fly across the hall with it. She heard the painful shriek of his shoes against the floor and a small _oomph _of him hitting the wall. Squaring her jaw, Clara turned around on her heel to glare at John.

John wasn't hurt in any way – he was sitting against the wall, looking a bit dazed perhaps, but otherwise, he looked quite fine. Good – Clara wouldn't have to pretend to mother over him.

"I'm just going to play my part," she said coolly. She threw her keys inside the apartment room and throwing John another glare, added, "Just like you do yours."

Clara was about to storm into her room when suddenly; John sprung from his position on the wall and kept the door open with his arms. He grabbed Clara's wrist and pressed her against the door, his face just inches away from hers. Her breath was quick and sharp to inhale and shaky and unstable when exhaled. Clara felt her eyes widen as she muttered, "What are you _doing?_"

"Why are you so cross with me?" John countered. Clara could feel his breath on her face – and it wasn't really a bad breath, either. (_Focus.) _

"Why do you think I'm cross with you?" Clara retorted, trying to free herself of John's grip. To her distress, he was much stronger than he let on. She growled in frustration and stamped her foot on the ground. "Let _go _of me!"

"Not until you tell me why you're so angry!" John said, his grip remaining as secure and tight as ever. "You've been nothing but silent and sullen around me – you won't look at me in the eye, you won't say anything, you won't accept _any _gestures of help – _why, Clara?" _He shook Clara a bit by the arms. "_What did I do?" _

Clara stamped her foot again. "You _pushed me out!_" She replied indignantly. "You _know _what you did – _you _were the one who wouldn't say a _single _thing to me! _You _were the one who wouldn't look at me in the eye! _You _were the one who wouldn't accept any gestures of help." She gritted her teeth and grounded out, "_That's why I'm cross with you!_"

A stunned expression flooded across John's face. His grip loosened and the moment it did, Clara wrenched herself free. She ducked into the apartment room and grabbed a hold of the doorknob. "I don't care _what _you're going through right now, John Smith," she said shakily, "but if you think for one second that it's alright for you to ignore the ones who _care _about you…" She forced out a stuttery, bitter laugh. "You've got another thing coming."

John didn't say anything.

Just as Clara thought.

Emitting another disbelieved, angry snort, Clara shut the door – _loudly. _In fact, she was fairly sure that the doorframe vibrated a bit from the impact of the door slamming into it. Clara looked at the white door and for the first time in that day, she felt her anger crumble into nothingness…to be replaced by immense, uncontrollable sadness.

Clara let out a small sob and quickly covered her mouth, as if the sobs were too loud or audible through the door. Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. Clara wasn't sure – but she knew that she was slowly sinking, _drowning _in an ocean of confusion. And she didn't know how to get out.

Tears prickling in Clara's eyes, the brunette slid down to the ground. She pressed her face against her hands and crossed her legs, letting the rest of the sobs shake her body for the remainder of the night.

* * *

**A/N - I personally know what Clara's going through, and I'm sure tons of other people can know the feeling of seeing a loved one - a friend, an ex, a guy who you thought was your boyfriend, whatever - suddenly push you out of your world. And treat you like a stranger. Like you never had a history with them. Like you never thought of them as someone you wanted to hang out with all the time. Like you weren't even real. **

**And that feeling is _tough. _Hard. But most of the time, I think the reasons why people shut others out is because they're just going through a big change...and suddenly, they don't want to depend on others anymore. I don't know - that's my own theory, anyways, and I was trying to depict it through this little bit. (Not to mention that I was feeling particularly angsty whilst writing this chapter...) **

**Reviews are great! Constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not!**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Time Heist was beautiful. **_**THAT IS ALL. WHOUFFALDI IS REAL. REAL, I TELL YOU! And _gasp, _am I actually updating this story within a reasonable amount of time? I think since I've got the entire plot worked out in my head now, it's easier for me to actually write the next few chapters. I'm beginning to think that this story is my main focus on FanFiction right now, which is quite an exciting feeling. It's been a while since I've felt that. :) **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_"Nothing happens by accident – not when it was meant for something greater to happen." _

_Chapter Thirteen. _

It was difficult for Clara to wake up in the morning the next day. Her hands fumbled over the alarm of her phone and after a few seconds of useless swearing and grabbing, Clara managed to turn off the blasted alarm. However, once the annoying beeping of her phone turned off, she sank back into her pillow, perfectly content with the state of peace in her bedroom.

That peace, however, was shortly shattered after her phone started ringing from a phone-call. Groaning, Clara pushed herself up on her elbows and dragged the phone off her nightstand. Rubbing her eyes, she accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear. "H-h-hello?" She asked haltingly through a yawn.

"Do you think you can come down here today?" Clara heard Idelette ask her from the other end. Clara kicked herself back against the bed and resisting the urge to whine, simply asked, "Why? Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing's _wrong_, exactly, but I think it'd be best to check for me to check on how you're doing – just to reassure myself that you're not slacking off or lazing behind." The last part of Idelette's statement was dry, though Clara couldn't help but to wince. She forced herself to shove the blankets away and replied, "I'm not slacking – I've been keeping up with the editing as much as I can. There's been some distractions, but I promise I'm trying not to let it affect my work."

"Mm-hm," Idelette murmured, clearly unconvinced. Clara winced again. She heard the head editor sigh and say, "But come over here anyways, yeah, Clara? I'd hate to lose one of my editors over some…distractions." Clara closed her eyes and squeezing the phone tighter in her hand, replied, "I'll pop in for a visit – sometime around noon, probably."

"Sounds fine," Idelette said. With those words exchanged, there was a click from the other end, allowing Clara to drop the phone back on the nightstand. Heaving a heavy sigh, Clara stood up and started to get ready for the day. It was still early in the day, so she could at least do several things before heading over to Idelette's building.

After getting dressed and washing her face, Clara strolled into the kitchenette. She swung open the fridge, only to find that _nothing was inside. _She groaned (for the second time that morning…and even in the same hour, too!) and closed the cool door. "High time you get some supplies, Clara," she muttered to herself and started looking for her shoes and jacket.

Once she had the proper necessities for going out, Clara swung open the door and headed out of the room. She made quick work to walk out of the complex and it wasn't long before she was at the grocery store, loading a plastic cart of food and drinks.

For the most part, her little trip around the grocery store was going peacefully. That is, until she headed into the diary section. There wasn't anything _wrong _with the diary, really – actually, Clara was glad to see that they were finally selling two percent milk instead of fat-free (fat-free never seemed to have any taste to Clara,) but it was the person who was standing _in the same aisle _that soured her mood.

Clara Oswald held onto her breath and froze right next to her cart, wondering if backing out of the aisle would cause any noise and have John Smith turn around. Talking or even _making eye contact _with John was the _last _thing she wanted to do right now, especially after last night.

_Last night. _

Last night was miserable for Clara – right after she was sure that she had gotten the last of her tears out, she had stormed into the bathroom, took a long, long shower and buried herself under the covers of her bed. And hoped to never see John Smith again. And hoped that this entire thing was just a stupid nightmare, that she'd wake up and find out that there was never a John Smith or a River Song or a moving-back-to-England situation that she needed to be a part of.

But _no_, that couldn't happen, could it? Clara Oswald was needed _right here_, which she couldn't understand.

_Just grab the milk and leave, _Clara thought to herself and without taking the time to think this over, she reached down and plucked a carton of milk from the fridge it was kept in. That simple movement, however, caught the eyes of John and Clara found that her heart was sinking considerably as the man turned his head to look at her.

"Good morning," John said conversationally, though those two words were enough to make Clara quickly back out of the aisle, dragging the cart behind herself. She hurriedly pushed it to the check-out counter, dumping nearly everything all at once and startling the cashier in the process.

"Sorry," Clara said breathlessly, reaching into her pocket for her wallet. She brought it out and flipped out a few twenties. "I just – I'm in a rush and I need to leave right now –"

"Got it, hun," the cashier replied and started checking out each item with a flick of her wrist. Clara looked over her shoulder, only to catch sight of John a few feet away from her. He was standing by the grocery doors, actually, staring at Clara with a particularly bewildered expression on his face. Clara swallowed and quickly turned back around to gather the plastic bags of food.

"Have a nice day," the cashier called after Clara, though she couldn't do much to return the gesture except bob her head into a quick nod. She walked – no, _jogged _to the doors, not sparing a passing glance to John. However, once she was outside, she could hear John's footsteps after her.

An unexpected kick of nostalgia pained in Clara's stomach – a small memory started to surface in her mind…a young man following her, eager to catch her attention…

_That was a different story. A different time, _Clara thought to herself and ran for the apartment building. Strangely enough, once she was inside, John didn't bother going in. Instead, he remained outside, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes still keeping track on Clara.

Biting down on her lip, Clara walked up the stairs and made her way to her room. She pushed open her door and immediately began to unload the groceries. It wasn't until she actually finished the job did she realize that her hands were trembling ever so slightly. Clara sucked in a quick breath and clasped her hands together, glaring down at them almost as if to command them to _stop shaking. _

However, Clara's hands had a mind of their own – they continued to quake, not even stopping when Clara ate breakfast. She shoveled in spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth and corrected more mistakes on writing passages that aspiring authors had sent her, though she wasn't quite as focused as she would have liked. It was yet another frustrating thing that had come out of last night, she came to realize…actually, no – this was yet another frustrating thing that had come out of _this dilemma in general. _

"I must look insane right now," Clara said aloud, though there wasn't anyone to hear her. She laughed quietly at that, but came to an abrupt stop once she realized that her laughter sounded too loud in the empty apartment room. Clara re-lifted her hands over the keyboard.

xXx

Clara didn't expect to see John still waiting outside when she walked out of the apartment building. She paused for a moment, taking the awkward second to re-shoulder her purse over herself. She cleared her throat and forced herself to look up at the sky. "Good morning," John said, just as he had in the store.

Clara's head snapped back at John and bit out, "Goodbye."

She pushed herself past John and started to walk quickly for the editor building. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and kept her eyes trained to the concrete or the sky or the trees – just about _anything _besides the shadow that was growing closer and closer from behind.

_Creepy stalker, _Clara thought briefly, though she instantly felt guilty for thinking such a thing.

And then she wondered why she felt guilty.

And then she started to get annoyed at how she felt guilty for something that didn't usually concern her.

Either way, Clara didn't stop moving. Within a few minutes, she was standing in front of the editor building and puffing out little misty clouds of breath from the cool air. She pulled open the great doors and without flicking a glance over her shoulder, bolted for the elevators. Idelette's office was on the fifth floor and frankly, Clara didn't think she had enough strength to climb up any stairs.

When the elevator doors slid open, Clara stepped inside…and then heard someone else step inside with her.

_I can't believe it, _Clara thought, her heart plummeting as she slowly turned around. She expected dramatic violin music – no, dramatic violin _horror movie _music to begin playing through the speakers in the elevator any moment now – because John was standing behind Clara, remaining as neutral-looking as ever.

_God, why does he keep doing that? Don't you want to yell at me? Don't you remember last night? Or anything? Why are you looking at me like nothing's wrong? Because there _is _something wrong and you're just…just _standing _there! _

It occurred to Clara a little too late that she realized that none of these words were actually getting across to John and instead, she had been staring back at John for those last few seconds. Feeling a flush creep to her cheeks, Clara quickly turned away and focused on staring at the patterns on the walls.

_Elevator ride, just end already, _she thought frantically to herself. _Please, please show mercy and just end quickly already – _

Her thoughts came to an unexpected pause as the elevator jerked to a sudden stop. A small, surprised cry escaped her lips and she tumbled forward, though she was able to catch herself with her arms before she could hit the floor. John extended a hand, though Clara ignored it and brushed herself off instead. "What's going on?" She asked after a tic of silence. She looked around the elevator, confused. "Did we…stop?"

John paused and echoed Clara's actions, taking in the same minutes to look around the elevator. "It appears so," he replied. "I think…we've stopped moving."

"We've stopped – oh, _that's just wonderful,_" Clara growled under her breath and fished her phone out of her pocket. She started to punch in Idelette's numbers when John spoke, "I don't think you should try that just yet." Clara looked up, eyebrows lifted. "Excuse me?" She asked, not bothering to fight the indignance that was bleeding through her voice.

John shrugged his shoulders. "Cell service is always bad in the lifts – you might have to wait for a few minutes before actually calling."

"That only happens in the movies," Clara replied bluntly and returned to her phone. However, she came to the quick realization that John was correct – her phone was not able to send a call or a text message because there was little service in the elevator. Frustrated, she bit back the arising groan by stuffing her knuckles in her mouth.

"Told you so," John said, nodding knowingly. Clara stuffed her phone back in her pocket and glared at John. "Well, thank you very much," she replied snappishly. "Feeling good about being right, yeah?" She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

"Not really," John said quietly. "I don't take pleasure in seeing people annoyed or hurt."

There was an odd way John delivered his words, and both Clara and he knew it. Clara's eyes re-opened and she turned her head to look at John, who was smiling sadly at Clara. He twiddled his thumbs and rested his head against the opposite wall. "Don't know much about you, though," he added after some time. "I think you seem to like seeing people get thrown around." Before Clara could open her mouth to protest, John hurried on, "I mean, _slamming the door on my hand _and then _throwing me across the hall. _You would think that someone of your size wouldn't be so strong!" He let out a weak little laugh, though it sounded empty and hollow in the elevator.

"I said sorry about your hand," Clara said stiffly. She crossed her arms and looked up at the dim lights in the elevator. "It's practically ancient history."

"Ancient history! Ha! Hardly – my hand still hurts, you know!" John retorted, waving his supposedly still-injured hand in the air. "It's still got this nasty bruise from the door slam and my head hurts like _hell _from last night –"

"_Stop. Right. There._" Clara said coolly, and to her surprise, John's mouth clicked to a close. Clara took in a deep breath and went on, "I don't know _what _you're trying to do – I don't know if you're trying to get into my good graces or make me laugh or what, but I would rather _not _listen to you right now." She clasped her hands together and shooting another convincing glare at John, added, "So _stop talking._"

John hesitated. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something more, though he seemed to think better of it and quickly looked back down at his feet. He bobbed his head into a little nod and slowly sank to the floor. Clara lifted her eyebrows and asked, "What're you doing?"

"I'm tired," John replied. "I'm allowed to sit on the floor if I'm tired, aren't I?"

_But you're never tired, _Clara wanted to say. Instead, she replied, "I suppose so." She turned to the metallic panel of buttons on the side wall and said quietly, "I suppose someone would find out that one of the elevators broke down, right?"

John simply nodded. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head into his arms and stood still for a few minutes. Clara shifted her weight from foot to foot, not quite sure what to do with the silence that John was leaving behind him. She cleared her throat a few times, though each time she did, John didn't stir or make any movements.

At this point, Clara was beginning to grow puzzled. She had said before that she didn't want to talk or listen to John, but she was…what was she expecting? A fight? A protest? Clara couldn't help but to feel guilty at those thoughts, too – she sounded like a person in need of entertainment or amusement. Angry with John she may, the fact that she _wanted _him to talk was…different.

_But what if you just wanted him to talk? Not because you're bored, but because you're…there's something more? _A soft, quiet voice whispered in the back of Clara's mind.

Clara shook her head violently, trying to rid her head of those thoughts. She puffed her cheeks with an intake of air and crouched down beside John. "Hey," she muttered quietly, nudging the man on the arm. "Hey, are you actually tired?"

John mumbled something incoherent and Clara quickly slipped back as he lifted his head from his arms. His eyes were bleary and the weariness in his eyes were now visible to Clara. He rubbed his face and murmured, "Sorry – fell 'sleep." He gazed at the button panel and said, "Still stuck here, then?"

Clara nodded wordlessly and John's head fell back to his arms. Clara chewed down on the inside of her cheek and before she could help herself, she blurted, "Why're you so tired?" When John looked back up at Clara, she hastily added, "I mean…you seemed pretty awake when you were following me around earlier today."

John ran a hand through his hair and replied, "Had a rough night." He paused and then said, "I'm not supposed to be talking about last night, though, right?" Without waiting for an answer, he nodded to himself. "Yeah, not supposed to talk about it – ignore that."

Clara crossed her arms. "What kind of rough?"

John blinked tiredly at Clara and responded, "River. David. Idris. Amy and Rory." He shrugged his shoulders (Clara had noticed that he was doing quite a lot of shrugging today) and went on, "There was a big fight last night and I couldn't really get a lot of sleep after it. Spent some time walking around." He frowned and glanced down at his wrist – Clara suspected that he was looking for a watch, though there wasn't any watch in sight.

"I left at…midnight, and now it's one in the afternoon," he said faintly. Clara felt her lips tilt downwards and she asked, "Did you get _any _sleep?"

"Hm, don't think so…" John answered, rubbing his hands over his face again. "I suppose that would explain why I'm so tired." He stretched his legs out in front of himself, so his feet were only bumping into Clara's. Then, almost as though he was in a daze, he went on in a slurred, quiet voice, "'m sorry about last night, though. Really, I am. And I know I'm not allowed to talk about it, but I really _am _sorry." He paused. "I don't really want you to get mad at me, Clara. Don't like it when you get angry at me – you get all sad and scary and it's not happy."

At that very moment, Clara felt herself softening. She watched as John's head slowly started to fall to his arms, though he continued murmuring, "I'm really tired now. _Really tired_." He chuckled feebly under his breath. "Though I bet you're tired, too."

And John was right – Clara was tired…

Tired of being angry at John.

Maybe it was the way John delivered his ways, maybe it was the fact that they were stuck in an elevator together, maybe it was the fact that John looked soft and sweet as he nodded off, or maybe it was the simple fact that Clara was feeling _sorry _about the entire situation that forced Clara to move closer to John. She lowered her hands over John's, causing the young man to lift his head.

"I think we ought to have another introduction, yeah?" Clara asked quietly, a small, sad smile twinging at her lips. She extended a hand and said, "Hello – I'm Clara Oswald and I think I'm actually losing the fight over a sleepy, insane man with the _strangest _problem in the world. I think I'm done being mad at him for now."

The smile that spread across John's face made Clara's heart do a little happy dance – like Clara's, it was a small, halfhearted smile, though it was a smile all the same. A smile that showed _hope. _

"Hello, Clara Oswald," he replied softly, taking Clara's hand. "I'm John Smith, and I think I'm losing a fight, too – only instead of a sleepy, insane man, I think it's to an incredibly bossy, confusing woman who knows how to get an insane man back on track."

"Back on track?" Clara asked, her voice lowering to a whisper. She slid closer to John, eyes wide. John, too, leaned in towards Clara. He wrapped one warm arm around her middle, repeating, "Back on track."

And then they were coming closer together…and then their hands were locking into each other…and then their faces were touching…and then their lips.

And then Clara and John were kissing.

_Kissing. _

And it was a completely magical, different experience with kissing John – there wasn't anything sexy or dirty or intimate about it. No one snuck a tongue in – no one started toying with the hem of a shirt, no one started to play with the zippers of trousers or yank down skirts. No one slammed anyone else into a wall or forced the other to beg for 'more'.

Instead, the kiss was soft – gentle – soothing. John's hands were pressed against Clara's back and Clara had her hands slung around his shoulders. Their foreheads were touching and their lips didn't move beyond each other's. Every so often, John would tilt his head in a different angle to kiss Clara better, and sometimes she would do the same.

And Clara wanted the kiss to last forever – she wanted it to be something _permanent _– something that would engrave itself forever in her mind. However, the elevator started moving and forced her to separate from John. The two slowly stood up, their eyes trained on each other's faces.

"Wow," John breathed, wide-eyed. "Well…I'm awake now."

Clara nodded slowly. "Me, too," she replied.

John's hands lowered to Clara's hands. He held his gaze on Clara's eyes and whispered, "So…does that mean…?"

Clara swallowed. "Only if you want to be," she replied, not trying to sound too eager. A smile played on John's lips and he replied, "But we're not going to tell anyone else for now." He gave Clara's hands a squeeze. "I want this…to be kept alone for now." Clara nodded again and taking in a shuddery breath, rested her head on John's shoulder. "I think I might really like you, John," she whispered.

Clara felt John rest his chin on her shoulder and her heart did another little dance as he replied, "And I think I might really like you, too, Clara Oswald."

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**A/N - Well, it's chapter thirteen and I thought it was time to progress in the relationship. :) Oh, and Idelette is going to wonder what's taking Clara so long...hee, hee, hee...**

**Reviews are always appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not. **


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